


Pinky Promise

by Tahlruil



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Grocery Shopping, Growing Old Together, Homophobic Language, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Maria Stark Tries, Minor Angst, Moving In Together, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Series of Moments, Slice of Life, Steve and Tony are Good Dads, That Lead to a Lifetime, Thermostat fight, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Very Minor, getting married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: Steve wasn't looking for a relationship not really - dating was fun and he was busy learning how to adult properly. A chance encounter with Tony, who's even worse at grocery shopping than he is, has the potential to change all that. The meeting feels significant, even if he could never imagine where it would end up taking him.Tony, meanwhile, was pretty happy with his string of one night stands and no feelings involved relationships. Despite being pushed of of the nest - he suspects Jarvis of giving his motherideas- he's really not interested in becoming a real adult. Steve makes him want more for the first time ever, and even if it terrifies him, he's willing to see where it goes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of my second fic for the Stony Trumps Hate Auction! I feel soooo bad that it took so long to start putting up - I'm terrible and I apologize. ;.; My winner (who preferred to remain anonymous) was amazing the whole time. <3
> 
> Originally this was meant to be one long fic, but I decided to break it up into sections for posting. It is 100% complete, however, so a new chapter will be posted once a week! Every Sunday, come hell or high water, I'm gonna post a section. I can get on a schedule, I _can_. XD
> 
> Thanks to my beta, KiernaSerea, for continuing to be awesome and catching my mistakes. Any that remain are entirely my own fault.

Grocery shopping had never been his favorite thing to do, mostly because he was just pretty bad at it. He was supposed to be an adult and had been for a few years now, but he still just didn't really 'get' it. How were you supposed to know what you would feel like eating ahead of time? How were you supposed to guess how many different kinds of snacks you might need? The pricing and different cuts of meat baffled him, and he had an ingrained aversion to most vegetables that he knew didn't serve him well.

Steve Rogers was pretty damn sure that if it wasn't for his best friends Bucky and Sam he'd have starved to death almost immediately after his college graduation. One or both of them usually tagged along, griping about his tendency to not check prices and the way he grabbed things totally at random. Lists were nice in theory, but he almost never remembered to make one. It was his friends who would put one together on the way to the store, and Steve was very good at ignoring them and getting whatever the hell he wanted anyway. It was just that Buck and Sam made sure he got a few green things in the cart and that he didn't end up with stuff like 'corned beef' just because it sounded interesting.

So yeah, his two friends usually saved his ass, but with neither of them available for this trip, Steve was just... lost. Maybe it would have been better to put it off for a few more days, but he was running on zero snacks and way too much takeout, so he'd chosen to bite the bullet and make an attempt all by his lonesome. He'd been in the store for forty minutes, and all he had in his cart was a gallon of milk (whole milk, since Bucky wasn't there to shame him into getting the milk-flavored lie that was skim) and a thing of noodles. Not even the _right_ noodles, he didn't think, but probably pappardelle ones could be used in mac and cheese. They sounded more fun than shells, anyway.

There was more stuff he needed, Steve wasn't dumb enough to think otherwise. It was just that he wasn't really sure _what_ , and he knew that his friends never let him start shopping for snacks until he was done with the bulk of his 'real food' shopping. He should get some meat, but every time he got near that section, he felt a small flare of panic and he had to do another circle. Did he want chicken? Beef? Pork? Sausage? All of the above? And was he supposed to buy in bulk? It was the beginning of the month, and he was pretty sure that this was when he was supposed to buy enough to last him through until the start of the next one... but Buck also complained a lot about how the selection during the first few days sucked, since everyone else had the same idea. So maybe he should only grab what he needed for the next few days…

Nope. Fruit and veggies first, because meat was way too intimidating. At least when it came to that section he pretty much always got the same things. He was pretty confident that he could manage. Probably.

Sure enough his anxiety eased pretty much completely as he wheeled his cart into the produce area. As a bonus, there was a really cute guy standing over by the melons to check out while he grabbed his apples, grapes and a salad mix. Steve kept peeking up at him as he browsed what seemed like a million apple varieties, trying to be subtle as he went about it. He knew exactly which ones he was going to get, but ogling a fellow shopper was more appealing than facing the rest of the store. The guy was probably around his age, maybe a couple years younger. His dark hair was fluffy and rumpled, and it made Steve want to run his fingers through the strands to make it even messier. Steve was also a fan of the guy's jeans, which were ripped and clung in a very appealing manner. Even his frown was adorable, and yeah. Steve was definitely hanging out in this section until the other man had walked away.

Except ten minutes and too many apples later, the other guy was still there and still frowning at the melons like they'd personally offended him somehow. Steve should probably mind his own business, but there wasn't a sales associate in sight and he had bags of three different kinds of apples, so something had to give. He started to wander slowly towards the melons, grabbing random fruits as he went. Papaya sounded interesting, and he knew he didn't like kiwis but Buck did, and _someone_ would eat the bananas, so it was fine. When he finally neared the other man, he cleared his throat, hoping to get his attention.

It worked like a charm, just a little too well - the guy jumped and nearly fell over as he tried to turn towards Steve in mid-air. Mortified that he'd caused the accident in the making, Steve lunged toward the object of his fascination. He just managed to catch the guy, but the act sent them both careening into the guy's empty cart; Steve took most of the impact, and it went crashing down to the ground on its side.

"Holy shit," the guy breathed, head tipped back so he could look up at Steve. He had the prettiest brown eyes ever, warm and framed by the longest, thickest pair of lashes that had ever existed. Those eyes were definitely going to haunt his dreams, Steve realized, and he'd probably be drawing them forever. "You are _ripped_. What do they feed you? Truck-fulls of spinach? Popeye has nothing on you," before he could react, there was a hand wrapped halfway around his left bicep, squeezing down. He didn't really mean to flex, it just sort of happened - he couldn't regret it when the guy gave a low, impressed whistle. "You must work out like a fiend. Pilates? Is it Pilates? Because Pepper's been after me to join her class, mostly to get me up before noon on the weekends, and I keep saying no. But if Pilates does _this_ , then I am down. Is it good for your ass? Because I'm told mine is fantastic and I'd hate for it to start slipping, you know?"

"Uhm."

"I mean, my ass is probably my best feature aside from my genius. Genius totally tops the list, but my ass is a close second. Hey, do you know anything about melons?"

"What? Uh..." Steve realized he was still holding onto the guy (who did, admittedly, have a great ass) and eased him back onto his on feet. "Melons. Right. I mean... a little?" Looking over at the display that had held Cute Guy's attention for so long, he was happy to note that he could at least identify all the different ones. "What do you need to know?" Straightening the cart he'd knocked over was the work of a few seconds, and when he straightened he saw that Cute Guy had been checking out _his_ ass. He was flattered until Cute Guy gave him a thumbs up which just made him start to blush.

"Okay! So. How do you know when they're done?"

"Done? Do you mean ripe?"

"Whatever. When I can eat them."

"I think you're supposed to thump 'em."

"... 'thump 'em'? Are we in Bambi? Did we turn into rabbits without me noticing?" That made Steve chuckle, which earned him a beaming smile from Cute Guy. "How do you thump a melon?"

"I dunno. Buck and Sam usually... I mean. I don't get them very often?" Cute Guy's expression turned unimpressed, and Steve coughed to try to hide his embarrassment. "Well I don't. I've got a phone though. I could probably find a video or something, 'cause now I'm kind of curious." How _did_ you tell if a melon was ripe? He knew Buck was better at it than Sam, but he didn't know why or anything. It was all magic for as much as he could tell.

"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?"

"I guess your ass is better than your genius after all," fuck, that sounded like he was flirting, which he probably was, but still. Cute Guy blinked at him for a second, mouth hanging open. As Steve fished for his phone, that morphed into a sweetly shy look - one Cute Guy promptly tried to hide with a broad grin.

"I told you it was a fantastic one. You were looking at it long enough earlier."

"I-- that's not... I mean. I wasn't! There was no ass-staring, or... or..." Steve stopped his flustered attempt at denial in favor of looking down at his phone. He knew he was blushing furiously but he couldn't do anything about it. It was better to just look for a video about thumping melons.

"Your phone is a travesty toward all mankind," Cute Guy informed him, sidling up to Steve again as he looked down at the cell. Now it seemed like Steve's phone had offended him, and there was a healthy dose of distaste in his expression too. "That thing looks older than I am."

"Yeah, well. It works just fine and that's all that matters. Not even that old," he muttered, feeling a little defensive. He didn't need anything new or super-fancy. Steve only needed his phone to be a phone - it was just hard to get one without at least a few of the extras anymore. "D'you want me to help you thump melons or not?"

"I would love for you to thump _my_ melon," Cute Guy murmured under his breath. Steve was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to have heard that, but he was super glad he had, because wow. He would definitely be okay with some melon thumping.

It was just that he had to get groceries first.

The initial search Steve performed got a lot of disturbing results, so he tried 'how to know if a melon is ripe' instead of 'melon thumping'. It made a big difference, and soon they were able to add a watermelon to Cute Guy's cart while Steve nabbed a honeydew melon for himself. There was a moment where they both lingered, and Steve took heart in that - maybe Cute Guy was actually interested. Just before he could ask for his number and maybe even his name, Cute Guy cleared his throat before making a grand gesture that encompassed the rest of the store.

"I have not a single fucking clue about how this works," he announced, looking proud of the fact where Steve found his own ignorance pretty embarrassing. "Think you could maybe walk me through it?" Steve had never hated himself for not figuring out how to be an adult as much as he did just then.

"I don't... um," he floundered for a second, because Cute Guy looked both disappointed and kind of resigned, which was just... he still looked cute and all, but Steve would like him to smile again. "It's not that I don't want to!" He hastened to assure the other man, holding out one hand in the 'wait just a second' gesture - mostly to stop himself from grabbing hold of Cute Guy's arm. "I just... my two best friends usually come with me. I don't really know how most of this works either," he admitted with a shrug. "I mean... you can see my cart. I'm just kind of guessing."

Cute Guy scanned the items he had, then gave another low whistle. This one was definitely not because he was impressed in a _good_ way. "Wow. Okay. Well. Milk! You knew about milk, and you've got some pretty fancy noodles there too, and... a lot of apples."

"I'm going to make a pie?" That hadn't really been his intention, but Cute Guy lit up again, so Steve was definitely making one now. And there was still a chance he could get Cute Guy's number and invite him over to eat it. "Yeah. A pie. With apples."

"Great! So you do sort of know, you have a phone from the stone age to help guide the way, and I'm still a genius even if you think my ass tops the list, so together we can definitely get this done."

"Together?" Steve liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

"Yeah! I need to show my parents and Pep that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself like normal human adults do, and I'm sure you'd like to rub it in your friend's faces that you can manage just fine without them, yeah?"

"I mean... a little."

"So let's go, uh... huh. I just realized I don't know your name, and that is a tragedy. I'm Tony... and you are?"

"Steve. Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet you," he added, holding out his hand. Cute Guy - no wait, he had a name now, and it was Tony - clasped it tightly. His fingers were calloused and strong, squeezing Steve's warmly as those beautiful brown eyes searched his own. "I look forward to our grocery shopping adventure," he teased, taking a step closer even though he definitely didn't need to.

"And _I_ look forward to hearing you scream my name in bed later," Tony returned easily, then laughed as Steve gaped at him. He knew his cheeks were flaming again, and he squirmed to try and get his body under control - it was very interested in taking Tony up on that offer. "Kidding, kidding. I think we should do this grocery shopping thing and make double sure we get you what you need to make me a nice, romantic dinner."

"I couldn't just take you out to a movie for the first date?"

"Well if you want to be all traditional about it," Steve turned to Tony, doing the full once-over before meeting his eyes again. He couldn't help the slow smile he felt curving his lips when Tony began to blush.

"I think being 'all traditional' is _exactly_ how I wanna do it," Tony actually ducked his head, peeking up at Steve through those beautiful lashes as he shuffled his feet.

"Oh. I mean. That's... you know, I hear there are a couple different good movies that just came out and I sort of would like to see a couple of them. Um. Mostly the ones with the, um. Action? Explosions? Those ones. Definitely not that new science fiction one, because hahahah, nobody likes that lame stuff. Definitely not me. I'm not, you know, a geek or anything. Totally not. I hate that nerdy stuff, so it's not like... it's not like I'm secretly dying to see it. I'd be happy seeing one with explosions and not a single interesting or unique plot line. Sorry, I'm not... this isn't usually how dates with me work. Usually it's a lot more... I lied, you know. I really want to see the new Sci-Fi, and I kinda hate pointless explosions. I mean, time and a place, right? Also, if there was an explosion behind you and you just casually walked away from it, you would probably die. Horribly and painfully. At the very least you'd get your eardrums blown out. So, you know. There's that. Also, are you sure you don't just... dinner at their place is usually how things go. For sex purposes. Not that I'm a whore. Exactly. I just--"

Biting his lower lip against laughter, Steve carefully reached out and wrapped his fingers around the other man's wrist. As he squeezed down gently, the babbling came to a halt that left Tony staring at him with a dropped jaw. "Tony. Do you want to go to the movies with me on Friday night? We can grab a bite to eat, then go see that science fiction movie. The most we're gonna do is talk and maybe kiss, but I think it'd be a real good time. So... you wanna?"

"Uh... yeah. Yeah. Okay. Do you want to meet up at wherever we're gonna eat, or...?"

"If you give me your number, we can iron out the details later. But I would like to pick you up, if you wouldn't mind that."

"No, nope. Would not mind that even a little. You can definitely... oh! Number. Here, give me that ancient hunk of plastic you call a phone," he couldn't help but roll his eyes as he complied, watching as Tony put his number in, then sent a text to himself. He wasn't all that surprised when he heard the voice of C-3PO say 'Sir, it's very possible this asteroid is not stable'. Tony could deny it all he wanted - the guy was definitely a huge nerd. "Shut up," he muttered when he looked up, probably because Steve was grinning.

"I didn't say anything," he answered with a shrug, shoving his phone into his back pocket once he had it back. "Now. Let's go show this grocery store what's what."

"You are so lame."

"Guilty. Do you know how to shop for meat?"

"Nope. But I definitely know how to use the internet, so we can figure it out with the help of our trusty friend, Google! Are we doing meat first?"

"I think Buck and Sam usually do that last? It's supposed to stay cold I think, so maybe--"

"How long has that gallon of milk been sitting in your cart?"

"What? Oh. Shit."

"Don't worry - we'll just swap it. But first... cereal? I like cereal. You can eat it whenever the fuck you want and people who judge you for that are terrible people. Don't hang out with people who judge you for eating cereal at ten o'clock at night, Steve, because they don't deserve your time. Also, I hope you aren't a 'cereal should only be eaten from a bowl with milk' guy, because that would be a deal breaker. I don't care how ripped you are, if you can't grab a handful of cereal right out of the box sometimes, I can't date you. Not that I got to do it often when I was little, because Jarvis was pretty damn vigilant, but still. College taught me much in the way of cereal eating. Pepper will only eat cereal with milk, but she can do whatever she wants because she's amazing and she pretty much runs my life when it comes to work and stuff. Some people think she's scary, but she laughs at most of my jokes and only rolls her eyes when I'm being a brat, so I'm pretty fond of her..."

Tony didn't babble through their whole attempt to grocery shop like adults. He tended to go on little rants that Steve sort of loved listening to, but he always circled back around to draw Steve back into the conversation. They could go back and forth for several minutes before Tony detoured again, and it was pretty damned adorable. It took them about an hour and a half to assemble halfway decent carts, verifying that they had a date Friday and that Steve would call Tony on Thursday to iron out the remaining details. They split up to go their separate ways, and Steve couldn't help but stare after Tony as he walked away, taken in by a lot more than his fantastic ass.

It felt like something important had just happened to him, which would be enough on its own to leave him beaming for the rest of the day. On top of that, he got to rub it in Sam and Buck's faces that he was perfectly capable of shopping on his own. Or almost on his own. Without their hovering and nagging, anyway.

Grocery shopping was his new favorite way to adult.

~.~.~

"Pepper. Pep. Pepper who could make a piper pick her. Peeeepper."

"Tony, sweetheart," her voice was soothing and it was almost enough to cut through his nerves. "I'm fairly busy trying to salvage what small relationship you have left with Mr. Lannigan, so if you could give me just a few seconds, I would really appreciate it," as she looked up at him, her glasses slid down her nose and she arched one perfectly manicured brow at him. Tony loved Pepper Potts for a lot of reasons, but the way she managed to look so serious despite the twinkle of mischief in her eyes certainly ranked. "Did you _have_ to tell him that his ideas were moronic and he smelled like stewed cabbage?"

"Yes, Pep. I absolutely did. You're just lucky I didn't mention his divorces. All nine of them."

"Three, Tony. It's only three," she still had her 'I am scolding you' aura pulled on, but he could definitely hear amusement in her voice.

"Ah. Must have gotten those mixed up with all the public breakups with his various mistresses."

That was enough to make her crack, and her bright laughter warmed every corner of his soul. Tony had been sure that once Rhodey deployed he'd be all alone in the world again... but then Miss Virginia Potts had turned that notion right on its head. She was the best assistant he'd ever had, and was just about tied for first when it came to the ‘best friends’ list too.. Pep was a lot better at listening to him whine when he was nervous about seeing someone than Rhodey was, that was for damn sure.

"Okay, okay. Finishing this email can wait a little bit longer - he's been pretty willing to talk to me. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that he accepted the apology I extended on your behalf."

"Never make me tell him that face to face, because I will fuck it up all kinds of ways."

"Noted. Now - why are you so anxious?" Tony loved her even more when she pushed away from the desk and scooted down to sit on the floor, ridiculously expensive pantsuit be damned. She opened her arms, and he quickly joined her for a snuggle session, setting his head on her shoulder. "I thought you said you liked this one? This uh... Steve was it?"

"Yeah. Steve. Steve Rogers. I do like him, even if he doesn't really know how to buy groceries."

"Honey, _you_ don't know how to buy groceries."

"I figured it out! Well, we did. Together. Me and Steve. Mostly. We mostly figured it out. Meat is really tricky. There are way more different cuts than there needs to be. Who the hell eats all that?"

"I don't know, Tony. But obviously someone does or they wouldn't keep stocking it all. Now tell me why you're nervous." Pepper started to scratch his scalp gently with her long fingernails, and it made him want to purr. He couldn't help the urge to butt against her affectionately, which made her start to laugh again.

"It's just that he's coming to pick me up, which is, you know, traditional date stuff. I don't do traditional-type dates. Ever. My first date was a frat party, Pep, and I was fifteen and she got me drunk out of my mind." Her quiet sound of anger was another thing that made him tingle happily, because he knew she was angry at all the people who'd taken advantage of him in college, not him. "Now my classier dates consist of dinner and a good fuck. How am I supposed to do this regular bullshit? He seems like a really nice guy, you know? He helped me pick out my groceries, Pep. He walked around the store with me for at least three hours, and he--"

"It wasn't even two hours, Tony. It was nice of him to do that, you're right, but I'm not quite getting why this is a bad thing."

"I'm going to fuck it uuuuuup," he whined, shifting so he could flop over and put his head in her lap. "Pepper, Pep. My dearest Peppy Princess. I don't know how to do this. He's going to pick me up and we're going to eat and then go see a movie. That's... I don't know how that works."

"I love you, but you're a little bit of an idiot," the fond tone and the truth in her declaration of love kept her words from hurting. And really, he was a bit of an idiot - she liked that about him. Tony whined wordlessly again, and she resumed the head skritchies, and fuck, even thinking about it like that made him sound like a pet, not a grown human person. "Steve was willing to help you figure out how to grocery shop, wasn't he?"

"Mm. Well, he was fine with figuring it out along with me."

"Okay. So..."

"Sooooo...?"

"So tell him you don't know shit about how adults date and see if he'll help you out with that too."

"You are just... just the most brilliant, beautiful woman to ever exist. Also. have I ever told you how much I love it when you swear?"

"Over and over again."

"I wish you'd do it in front of the board, I will pay you obscene amounts of money to drop the f-bomb next time I'm in the middle of a meeting with them and you're taking my notes. Please. Obscene amounts, Pepper."

Her heavy sigh was answer enough, no that he'd ever expected her to do it anyway. Not just for money - never just for money. They'd have to seriously piss her off before she deigned to do more than give icy smiles and compliments that he knew were actually vicious insults. "And have your father fire me? No thank you. Who knows how much trouble you would get into before they could find another assistant who can contain your mad brilliance."

"You say the sweetest things."

"And the smartest. Go home--"

"I don't have a home."

"Oh, for the love of... you have a home, Tony."

"No, they kicked me oooouuuut."

"And bought you a _house_. I’m sure your mother just wants to know that you can take care of yourself. I'm sure it would put Edwin at ease as well."

"His name is Jarvis, Pep, and don't you make me feel bad using him, okay? Fine. Fine. I have a home. It's just messy."

"You could fix that, you know."

"I'm not supposed to hire anyone to do it. I'm kind of hoping that Jarvis takes pity on me during one of his visits. Hasn't happened yet, but I bet he breaks before I do."

"Why can't you just... no. Never mind. I'm not putting a horse in that race."

"Spoilsport."

"I was trying to give you some sisterly advice, you know, and you ruined it."

"I'm very good at ruining things," he hated how much _truth_ was in his voice, how much pain. Howard had always been good at making sure Tony knew just where he stood in the scheme of things. Before thoughts like that could turn him from being nervous to depressed, Pepper carefully stroked his hair away from his face, smiling down at him like she didn't think he was a complete fuck up.

"You're better at building them, Tony Stark. I don't think you could ruin anything you couldn't fix. Now shush and listen to my wisdom please."

"Yes'm," he agreed meekly. She rewarded him by leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple, and she didn't even 'tut' at him when he nuzzled his cheek against her thigh. "Please continue to be my personal Yoda."

"Always. Now. You're going to go home, take a nice long shower - or even a bath first, you have time if you want to soak - and get dressed in something nice. Not your clubbing clothes either, Tony - you don't want to give the poor boy a heart attack or turn him completely stupid. Just... something nice. By then part of you is going to be worried that he isn't going to show, so call or text him just to confirm. If you need an excuse, say your bossy personal assistant wants to know where to find you, just in case. Once he picks you up, you're going to relax and _have a good time_. That's all you have to do - just enjoy yourself."

"But I don't know _how_ \--"

"The last bit of advice I have," she continued, louder now to drown out his protest. "Is that if you have a good time and you want to go out with Steve again, tell him that you're nervous and that you haven't dated much. I know you've had a lot of 'boyfriends' and 'girlfriends'," Pepper was pretty good at knowing when he was about to interrupt, and she'd stalled him right out of the gate with her words. "But you said yourself that you haven't really gone on many 'traditional' dates. Tell him that, and if he deserves you even a little bit he'll help you figure it out."

"Like he did with the shopping."

"Like he did with the shopping."

"... I guess it's not a horrible plan."

"So follow it please. It's better than you getting yourself all worked up to the point where you scare him off before he can hurt yo--"

"Okay! Wow. No. We are noooot doing that." Tony informed her as he abruptly left the two-person cuddle-pile to scrabble to his feet. "You are not my therapist or whatever, so no. None of that, missy. We are not delving into the many and varied issues of one Tony Stark. Capiche sister? No. You can be my PA and my friend and maybe even a bit of a life coach sometimes, but no... just no. No playing therapist, mkay? I'm just gonna... I'm gonna go do what you told me to do, just... with more 'me' in the mix. But yeah, I'm gonna go home and take a shower, but I totally won't need to call Steve, Pep, he's definitely coming. I mean, he got an eyeful of all this," he reminded her, indicating himself with both hands in sweeping gestures. "So he's going to show. I don't have to... to confirm it or whatever. Okay. So I'm gonna... go. And get ready for my, you know. Date. My traditional, not-scary, definitely-happening date. And you can use the silence to, you know, finish up that email and maybe make sure my schedule isn't _too_ packed next week, because I miss my workshop."

By that point, she'd been on her feet for a while, arms crossed and lips twitching in what was probably an aborted smile. "Tony? Get out of here so I can finish up for the day and leave myself. I have a date with a glass of wine and the Turner Classic Movies channel."

"You are just... so lame and so sad. But fine!" Tony hastily agreed, darting forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Love you, see you Monday, enjoy your weekend, thanks for everything. Bye!"

Unfortunately, it turned out Pepper Potts knew him pretty damn well. 

Once he was out of the shower, instead of debating clothing options Tony found himself agonizing over the possibility that Steve might not show up. Maybe he wouldn't pull into the driveway at six-thirty. Maybe he would be with his friends instead, laughing over how some scrawny nerd in the grocery store thought that a beefcake like Steve Rogers - if that was even his real name!! - would ever actually want to go out with Tony. Nobody would, not unless they knew his last name too, so maybe he should have dropped that little bomb right away to keep Steve interested... fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Pepper had said to call Steve, but that wouldn't help if Steve _lied_ , but maybe it would help him calm down enough to pick an outfit for their probably-not-happening-date. He did want to be dressed, just in case the slim possibility this wasn't all a joke turned out to be a thing that happened, so calling Steve might work. His fingers definitely thought so, because they were already dialing the number.

"Tony!" Wow, that just... that just wasn't fair. Steve sounded really happy to be hearing from him, which just sort of made his heart clench unpleasantly. Good thing that exuberance quickly morphed into concern. "Is everything okay? I'm supposed to be there in an hour and a half... are you calling to... cancel?" It was awful of him, but that brief pause and the way he'd been able to _hear_ Steve swallow hard before continuing was a hell of a balm to his confidence. "I'd... understand I guess. If you wanted to. Just say the word and we can--"

"No!"

"... no? No to cancelling or no to the date, or...?"

"I meant... no. No I'm not cancelling," and it was a lucky break that Steve couldn't see him just then, because Tony could feel himself blushing. "I'm not... no. That wasn't it. I was kind of worried that... that maybe you might have... You know. Changed _your_ mind."

"Well I haven't," Steve told him almost immediately, a smile in his voice. "Not even a little bit. I'm just getting ready, and I was gonna stand around awkwardly until I could leave without being ridiculously early, but... I could change that plan, if you wanted."

"Change it how?"

"How soon can you be ready?"

"Uh... I just got out of the shower, so in theory... now? Is this where you tell me you have teleportation powers and I look over my shoulder just in time to see you poof into my bedroom?" Steve’s laughter warmed him almost as much as Pepper's did, which was a pretty good reason to follow her plan.

"No, I'm not 'poofing' inta your bedroom, Tony. Even if I could, I wouldn't - we haven't even had a first date yet. Bedrooms can wait."

"Yeah..." he agreed absently, feeling just a little dazed. "Bedrooms can wait. Um. Which is a good thing, because in practice it's going to take me probably about ten minutes to actually be ready. I want to. You know. Look good. For yo-- the date!" He interrupted himself in what some people would probably call a yelp. "For the date. I want to look good for the date, God I am such a disaster sometimes. Are you sure you haven't changed your mind?"

"Nope. And I can be there in twenty minutes... if you didn't mind me being early to the point where I look incredibly uncool."

"... I think I'd like to see you look uncool, actually. But with traffic... I really don't think you can get here that fast."

"Watch me," and Tony could just see the wolfish grin that would be on that unfairly handsome face. It was enough to make him a little weak-kneed, actually, and maybe even a little sorry that bedrooms had been very clearly marked as a 'no-no' in Steve's mind. "Be there in twenty minutes Tony. You could even time me, if you really wanted."

"Do I get a consolation prize if you're late?"

"Sure. Anything you want."

"Mm-hmm... I see. Interesting. And if you're right on time?"

"Then I think I should get a reward."

"Like...?"

"Like maybe a second date?" Tony couldn't help but be the one to start laughing at that, because the hope and bashfulness in Steve's voice were just adorable. They were also completely at odds with the cool confidence that had been there just a minute ago, and Tony found himself interested in the shift, in how many other feelings Steve could put in his voice. He wanted to figure Steve out.

"We haven't even had a first date yet," he teased, feeling just giddy enough that he sat down on his bed to finish out the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I'd be a lot less nervous about making a good impression on this date if I had another one in the bag."

"You're nervous too?"

"Yeah Tony," and from the sudden gentleness in Steve's voice, Tony's own had been far too revealing when he'd asked the question. "I'm nervous too. And if you have a shitty time with me, or you decide you don't like me after all, I wouldn't hold you to that second date. But if you do enjoy yourself, my reward might help us both be a little less nervous about what happens after the night is over."

"What if you have a shitty time?"

"I really, _really_ don't see that happening. So... if I take longer than twenty minutes from when you hang up, you get to pick a consolation prize. If I'm on time or early, I get my second date. Deal?"

"I think I like you and I'd like a second date, but I don't know how this works, because like I told you at the store this isn't usually how... I haven't really had a lot of, you know, dates that were dates," he continued despite being mortified with himself. He was ruining Pep's plan by doing things all out of order! "It was mostly just 'hooking up' as the kids would say, and I don't know why I said that because it's not like I'm some old fogey or anything, but... yeah. That's sort of been the extent of my dating life, so I'm really not sure how to do this, but I want to try, and Pepper - the best, most beautiful girl in the world - said that I should tell you that I'm sort of super nervous about this and about how it works and so now I have and I'll add that I'm pretty sure I'm going to fuck everything up sometimes, so could you please be patient when I do?"

Tony was practically panting by the time he'd finally gotten the rush of words out. He was unnerved by the silence that seemed to last forever on the other end of the line though. Fuck - he'd scared Steve off! Before he could panic completely though, Steve spoke up again.

"Pepper sounds like a smart lady. Tell her thanks for me, will you?"

"For giving me advice that ended up letting you know I'm a disaster ahead of schedule and making you realize you don't want to take me on a date after all?"

"What? No! Thank her for telling you to talk to me."

"Because it made you change your--"

"Because now I know how important it is for _me_ not to fuck this up."

"... excuse me?"

"Dating is supposed to be _fun_ Tony. Fun, with zero pressure to do anything you don't wanna. It's a chance to get to know each other and have a good time doin' it. Especially at first, even if things get a bit more serious later on. So I gotta make sure that's what it is for you. Fun. If I fuck that up, dump me right away, alright?"

"I don't get it," Tony told him honestly, feeling a bit lost. Dates were supposed to be all romantic and shit, not just... 'fun'. They were supposed to lead either to the bedroom or the altar, and he sure as hell wasn't getting married anytime soon. Possibly not ever, not after seeing how enjoyable Maria and Howard clearly _didn't_ find it. Still, Steve had probably been on more actual dates than he had, so Tony would try to give him the benefit of the doubt except on one critical point. "And trust me, you will be the one breaking up with me Steve. Not the other way around."

"It is waaaay too early to jinx this with bets like that," Steve answered with a soft huff that could have been laughter or irritation, maybe even a bit of both. "So how about we, you know, go on some dates before we argue over who's going to break up with who? And... it's okay if you don't 'get' it. I'm gonna show you Tony. Promise." 

Something about Steve's voice on those last few words sent a shiver of delight and anticipation up Tony's spine. They'd been sweet and sincere, two things often lacking in his 'wham-bam-thank-you-sir-or-ma'am' partners. He didn't really know what to do with that, but he knew that he liked it. He also knew that he was showing far too much vulnerability in his answer. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," the man agreed easily. "We'll seal the deal with a pinky shake when I get there. I'll even cross my heart and hope to die, if you want me to."

"... no. That's alright. What I want is for you to be here in twenty minutes."

"Then I'm on my way, sweetheart. Start a timer once you hang up. See you soon."

"See you when you get here, Steve. Which will definitely not be in twenty minutes or less." Steve unfortunately didn't really rise to the bait, just chuckled in his ear, whispered 'we'll see' and hung up. It sucked not to be talking anymore... but they would be seeing each other soon, and Tony was about 97% sure that Steve was actually going to show up. Maybe even 97.5%, which was unheard of levels of certainty for him when it came to other human people. He was even smiling as he set the stupid timer, and picked his clothes out with care - he really, _really_ wanted to look good for Steve.

It was probably a really good thing Pepper had already put a firm kibosh on his club clothes. They were a bit much for dinner and a movie.

Steve rang his doorbell with three minutes to spare, which had Tony pretty fucking sure they guy had magical powers of some kind. Until he opened the door, anyway, and saw the man's leather jacket and the motorcycle helmet he had tucked under one arm.

"That is fucking cheating, you little shit," were the first words out of his mouth, complete with a finger jabbed right in Steve's flushed, smiling face. "I thought you were driving a car, and while _I_ could probably get anywhere in this godforsaken city in twenty minutes in a car, it's because I drive like a reckless bastard and people get the fuck out of my way. People in cars take longer, and it's just... no. Deal's off because I thought you had a car - you didn't tell me it was a motorcycle! They can weave in and out of traffic and go down all those bullshit alleys that were not made for four- or even two-door models to travel down, and I just. You are a shit. You _knew_ I thought you had a car," Steve didn't interrupt his rant, just stood grinning up at Tony - only because he was about halfway down his steps, leaning casually against the railing, and Tony found that infuriating even as he wanted to see if he could tuck his head right under Steve's chin if they stood on level ground.

What Steve _did_ do was offer up his right pinky; Tony hooked his own around it in a seal of the earlier promise without even slowing down. "Is this what you're like? All tricksy and shit when it comes to dumb bets? Because if so, it is _on_ buddy. I am going to massacre you when it come to our next stupid challenge. You won't even know what hit you," if he were being honest, Tony didn't really know what had hit him either. He was still holding Steve's pinky, because it was warm and Tony's skin was kind of tingling where they were connected, and seeing Steve smiling so warmly at him was making his stomach do that awful clenching thing again that he was realizing maybe wasn't so bad after all. "And you will beg for mercy before the end. Then I will remind you of this moment, where you bamboozled me into a second date under completely false pretenses."

"It's nice to see you too, Tony," he returned after waiting a few seconds, clearly making sure Tony was actually done first. That was just... Rhodey and Pepper were the only ones who ever did that for him. It was. Nice. Good. Warm. "And does the indignant betrayal you’re feeling mean you don't want to ride it?" 

Tipping his head to the side, Tony considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Only if you drive really fast and take corners sharp enough to make me whoop with glee."

Steve's smile broadened as he gave Tony's pinky a light squeeze with his own before finally (and unfortunately) pulling his hand away. "Guarantee it. Maybe not tonight though? I'd wanna make sure you had a helmet that fit right and enough gear to keep you safe before I went _that_ fast."

"Then I'm driving tonight."

"Can I put my bike in your garage then?" Tony was a little surprised that Steve wasn't protesting, or insisting that he be the one to drive even if they were taking Tony's car. The only one Howard had let him bring with him, the bastard - and it wasn't even his favorite! "I don't like leaving it out on the street much."

"Yeah, that's cool. If you start wheeling your bike that way, I'll grab my car keys and open the garage from the inside to meet you there." Steve beamed at him for a second, which made Tony pleasantly uncomfortable (and how was that even a _thing_ ). Fighting a blush, he turned to head back inside... only to feel warm, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

"Hey Tony?"

"Hey Steve?"

"You look..." Tony brought his eyes back to Steve's face, delighted to find that now the blond was the one blushing. "You look incredible. I'm real lucky to have you on my arm tonight." The earnest sincerity and open appreciation in Steve's face just about killed him dead. Of course he looked good - he always looked good, so long as he hadn't disappeared for hours/days at a time into his workshop - but it still was nice to hear Steve say it. And not even in a way where it felt like he was just saying it as a formality, or like he wanted to get into Tony's pants. He was starting to wonder if he was dreaming or something.

"You look pretty good yourself," Tony murmured, hating that he sounded a little shy. "Though I reserve my final judgment for after you fix your helmet hair and take off the jacket that you only wore to facilitate your dirty, rotten, cheating ways." 

The smile he sent Steve as he shut the door in his face was one he'd heard people call 'angelic'; Steve seemed to freeze at the expression, losing track of what Tony'd said before giving it. He saw when it penetrated though, right before he lost sight of the other man completely. What he caught was shock, a little bit of betrayal and maybe even a hint of anger... but just before the door clicked all the way shut, he heard Steve start to laugh.

~.~.~

Dating 'Tony fucking Stark' was an... experience. Steve hadn't been scared off when he found out who exactly the guy he was dating was. It had actually explained a lot of things about their earliest dates, and the knowledge prepared him for the times when Tony would drag him to high-class restaurants instead of the chain establishments he was used to. Sam went with him to get a suit and some ties for when that happened - not that it often did, not after Tony saw how uncomfortable Steve got in places like that. They mostly did things 'normal' couples would, just with a little Tony Stark flare tacked on when he was the one orchestrating them.

So far he'd rented out a zoo, brought Steve to the Met after hours for an amazing private tour, bought out the tickets for a movie theater three times and chartered a helicopter for a ride around the city. When Steve had mentioned a love of baseball and basketball, Tony had gotten season tickets for both in the best seats possible, and when he saw that Steve had an appreciation for theater and classical music he planned outings that incorporated those as well. 

Steve's dates were a lot more low-key, but Tony seemed to enjoy them all the same. Tony had eaten enough hot dogs and cotton candy that he'd made himself sick at a carnival they'd gone to and had been delighted by all the stuffed animals Steve won for him. He never complained when Steve brought him to diners before they took a long walk either. And maybe he'd been clumsy and uncoordinated, but he'd still laughed and laughed until his cheeks were flushed and his eyes sparkled when Steve took him to a roller-rink.

It had been almost three months since that first date, and they seemed to be in a pretty good place. Sam was still voicing his doubts about how long Tony would remain interested; Bucky just wanted to know if Tony would give him a tour of SI's R&D department. At least they were mostly supportive and were even game to help Steve clean his apartment in anticipation of their first ever 'date night in'. Well, they'd been okay with it for a while, but they seemed to be quickly losing their enthusiasm.

"Ho-kay, I am _not_ sweeping again Steve. They floors are clean enough to eat off of, man. I'm not using the Swiffer either," Sam added when Steve opened his mouth. "I've done it four times, and now I'm done."

"Bathroom's fine too," Bucky said as he walked into the kitchen. "Your shit's all dusted, carpets are as good as they're gonna get - but they're still shit, Stevie, and ya really oughta get 'em torn up and replaced soon - and I put that weird powder stuff on your couch before I vacuumed the cushions. The place is fucking spotless and ya need to calm the fuck down."

"But-"

"Look man, you've said that Tony likes you for you, right? You've been taking him out on lame dates--"

"Hey!"

"And he hasn't dumped you yet. He's not going to cut and run because you have a few smudges on your fridge."

"Smudges? Where?" Bucky interrupted his fretting by catching him around the waist and not letting him get to the fridge. Intellectually Steve knew that Sam was right. Tony was a bit of a slob if what he'd seen of the guy's house from the doorway was anything to go by. If he could see Steve's floor and there weren't any dirty dishes hanging out on the counters he'd probably be happy. Steve tried not to judge, not when he was guilty of letting his daily chores go when he was too tired or too busy, but... well. Tony's house seemed to be rapidly approaching 'irredeemable cesspit' territory. He hoped that Tony's dad would let Jarvis stop by and help Tony clean soon.

Or maybe if that night's stay-in date went well, he'd let Steve come over and help him instead. He was decent at keeping house, and they'd had fun on their grocery shopping adventure.

"Would ya calm down? Take some deep breaths and let the cleaning go Stevie. Let me'n Sam escape your insanity so you can start making dinner."

"Still don't know why you didn't just order take-out," Sam muttered, laughing when Steve threw the sponge in his hand at the man's head. "It'd be easier, that's all I'm saying. But you go ahead and be fancy if you think that'll get you laid." His eyebrows began a suggestive dance that Steve didn't really appreciate.

"This isn't about having sex! I told you - we're taking things slow. From the sound of things Tony hasn't ever been able to really date before and it's not like I'm the kind of asshole who demands we fuck immediately or else I'll leave him. I just thought maybe if we ate in--"

"He wants to cuddle and shit," Bucky told Sam knowingly. "You know how he is about PDA. Bet him and Tony haven't done much more than hold hands. Steve wants some privacy to wrap himself around Tony like a octopus and lay a few smooches on him." His best friend began making kissy sounds at him; Steve fought against a laugh as he splayed his hand over Bucky's face.

"Get the hell outta here, the both of you," he said fondly. "Gotta cook my boyfriend a nice dinner."

"Freedom!" Sam shouted as he dropped his broom and ran for the front door. He backtracked after a couple seconds though, peeking around the corner to wink at Steve. "Good luck man. I want details tomorrow on our morning run. Later!" He waved and was gone again - Steve appreciated that he didn't take the chance to mention the doomed nature of Steve's relationship with Tony. 

Bucky, however, had stepped back when they heard the front door close, lips pursed in concern. "I know I only met Tony the once so I don't really know much about him," he started. Steve's stomach immediately dropped like a stone. "And ya keep saying that dating is going great. 'S nice that neither of you is jumping straight to sex, but... look. You turned down that girl Stacey the other day, and I'm pretty sure Kevin would ask ya out if you flirted back. You're doing the exclusive thing - you sure that's what Tony wants?"

"I don't think I like what you're implying, Buck."

"I'm not trying to say anything bad about Tony," he protested, holding his hands in the air. "Like I said - I don't know him. You haven't let me and Sam horn in on any of your dates yet."

"We're not at the 'meet friends and family' stage yet," Steve defended.

"Could you listen to all of what I'm trying to say before ya start getting worked up? I just... look. It's great if you're casually dating and it's great if you're seeing each other exclusively. All I'm saying is that you should make sure you're on the same page. You're turning down dates and shit, you're planning a romantic dinner in... you're invested, Stevie. You're only gonna get yourself hurt if you don't let him know that. It's not fair to him either if he thinks you're going out on dates but not dating. So open your big dumb mouth and let him know, alright?"

"I don't want to scare him off. I like him a lot," he admitted quietly, shrugging. "I figure I can hold off on making this serious for a while yet so that he doesn't get uncomfortable."

"That's a bullshit plan. How are you gonna feel if he shows up in the tabloids kissing some pretty movie star 'cause he doesn't know ya don't want him to?"

"... pretty damn crappy."

"So _tell him that_ , you punk. Do the communicating thing before one or both of you ends up with a broken heart." Bucky smiled at him before he reached out and clasped Steve's shoulder. "That's just my two cents. At the end of the day it's up to you. Just trying to look out for ya."

"I know. And I guess you might even have a point. I hate when you have a point. Get the hell out of my house with your sensible relationship advice!"

Once he'd chased Bucky out, Steve gave his words some serious thought while cooking. The idiot was right, and he couldn't let the fear of chasing Tony away keep him from doing what was right for himself. He didn't want to date other people and he didn't want Tony to see anyone else either. The best thing he could do was talk to Tony about it all and see where he stood on the issue.

Just... he'd wait until after dinner. After dinner was the best time to bring stuff like that up.

Tony got there a couple minutes after he was supposed to, which Steve had been expecting. The guy tended to get kind of wrapped up in whatever he was doing and time ceased to mean anything. The fact that he was only ten minutes late meant that he really wanted to be there.

"Steve!" He greeted with a beaming smile as soon as the door was opened. He had a bottle of wine that would probably be wasted on Steve's taste buds in one hand and a bouquet of lilies in the other. Instead of his usual clothes (a stylish suit for dates he'd planned, jeans and a t-shirt when Steve decided where they were going), Tony was in black slacks and an emerald sweater that clung to his frame. "Pep said I should bring a gift and said that no, you would not appreciate a Rembrandt no matter how much you're into art and that I should keep it simple. But then I didn't know what to bring, so I figured that if I brought two things then that was an extra chance to prove that I don't suck at presents no matter what she says. I even remembered that you didn't like roses!"

Tony looked so damn proud of himself for that, and it was enough to drag him out of his stunned stupor. "You're right, roses are my least favorite flower," he agreed before stepping forward to wrap Tony up in a hug.

"So I did good?"

"Yeah," he murmured against Tony's temple. "You did good."

"Could you write, sign and date a note to Pepper to that effect? She won't believe me when I tell her."

"If you want, we can record something on your phone to let her know. That'd probably be even better than a note."

"You're such a thinker. It's kinda sexy."

Steve laughed and pulled back before ushering Tony inside. "Yeah yeah. Dinner will be ready in just a little bit. Why don't you give me the flowers and you can open the wine. It's probably one of those fancy kinds that needs to breathe or whatever."

"You are such a pleb," Tony told him, looking around the room with interest lighting his eyes. "I should have just mixed some vinegar and grape juice - you wouldn't have even known the difference."

"Sure wouldn't have," he agreed easily. Steve took the flowers from him, then grabbed his hand and tangled their fingers together. "Come on - corkscrew's in here, and I got some stuff I need to stir anyway. Hope you're hungry and that you like mashed potatoes. They're my favorite, so I think I'd be obligated to dump you if you didn't like them."

"Well then it's a good thing I do. If you like peas, _I'm_ going to have to dump _you_. Peas are an invention of the devil. Maybe PETA. They seem like the kind of people that would decide peas should be a thing. Are we only having mashed potatoes?" Tony's fingers were moving almost as much as his mouth, tapping the back of Steve's hands, twisting this way and that, thumb rubbing over the inside of his wrist. His inability to be still wasn't something that bothered Steve, and Tony had finally gotten past the stage when he would try to keep from moving or shoot Steve apprehensive looks when he couldn't help himself.

"Yes, Tony. I made a meal entirely of sculpted mashed potatoes. The Eiffel Tower was a bitch to put together." Tony's laugh echoed in the apartment, easing the knot of tension Steve had been carrying in his chest. Tony was still looking around eagerly and didn't seem to be judging Steve too harshly on his simple lifestyle and possessions. They were worlds apart in a lot of ways, and Steve appreciated the way Tony adapted to his. If he didn't scare Tony off with his request to be dating exclusively, Steve promised himself that he'd work harder to fit into Tony's world.

Once they were in the kitchen, Tony hopped up on one of the counters and heckled Steve while he finished cooking their meal. After he'd opened the wine he fidgeted and squirmed, fingers ghosting over the counter and cabinets. He also turned the water on whenever Steve turned his back - the way he shut if off when Steve rounded on him turned it into a game. It felt... really nice and domestic, and this had been a really good idea on his part. They could both be a little more relaxed than when they were in public, and this was a way better environment for discussing the nature of their relationship than a crowded restaurant.

Everything was finished and just needed to be plated when Steve rounded on Tony and moved into his space. He wasn't quite between Tony's legs, but he did have his hands rested on either side of the other man. It was strange to have to look up at him, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that usually Tony was short enough to tuck under his chin. "Didn't mention it earlier," he said, smiling up at Tony. "But you look really cute in that sweater."

It was so hard not to laugh when Tony started to glare at him - he always said that he hated being called 'adorable' or 'cute' just because he was a little shorter and younger than Steve. The blush on his cheeks was a hint that maybe he wasn't as adverse as he pretended to be. "You are _such_ an ass."

"Aww, come on Tony - don't be like that," he said, leaning up to try and sneak a kiss. Tony evaded the attempt and the one that followed, even crossing his arms over his chest in a show of his resolve. His lips kept twitching though, a sure sign that he was holding back laughter.

"Uh-uh, buddy. No kisses until you take back the insult to my manly pride. I wasn't going for _cute_ , Steve. It hurts me that you went there."

"Sorry buttercup."

"Nope."

"You don't look cute at all."

"Better. Ish."

"That sweater makes you look very handsome, not adorable."

"We're getting there." Steve huffed out a sigh before tucking his face against the curve of Tony's neck.

"I said I was sorry," he murmured, nosing the other man's skin. "What more do you want from me?"

Tony relented enough that he draped his arms over Steve's shoulders, grabbing handfuls of his shirt. "A sculpture of Big Ben done in mashed potatoes, carrots and asparagus. Asparaguses? Asparagi? More than one asparagus."

Steve burst out laughing and Tony joined in soon after, both of them leaning against each other. It wasn't all that funny, he knew that, but neither of them could stop; every time Steve thought he was done, Tony would give a giggle-snort that set him off again. It was a good few minutes before they got themselves under control. The quiet that fell afterwards was comfortable, and he wasn't in a hurry to break it. They had food waiting though, so eventually Steve wrapped his arm around Tony's waist and lifted him from the counter. Tony yelped, which prompted him to swing the man around in a circle before setting him on his feet and stealing a quick kiss.

"Cute isn't the word for the sweater," he admitted with a grin. "Just didn't think it'd be appropriate to say how sexy it makes you look. Kinda want to peel it off with my teeth." Tony made a strangled sound, a hint of a blush covering his cheeks. Steve winked and guided him to the table; once he was seated, Steve fixed their plates, poured two glasses of wine, and joined him.

Everything had turned out well, and while they ate Tony caught him up on how things at SI were doing. He also had Steve record a video assuring Pep that he'd done a great job at picking out gifts to bring. Steve made sure to point out that he didn't expect Tony to bring something every time in hopes that the woman wouldn't harass Tony about it too much. The conversation wandered into Steve's day job and the few commissions that he was working on. Tony promised to get him in contact with some people, and Steve thought he might even take him up on the offer.

Steve had intended on leaving the dishes for later, but Tony offered to do them instead. It was an exercise in hilarity, watching Tony fumble around the simple chore. It didn't take him long to join in, showing Tony a better way that wouldn't send so much water slopping over his counter. The domestic nature of it hit him again, and he really hoped that Tony wouldn't dump him before the night was over, because he really would like to help Tony get his house in order.

They'd planned to watch a movie after dinner; after going through his limited collection of DVD's, Tony put on a mindless comedy. Bucky's words were ringing in Steve's ears as they both settled on the couch, Tony tucked against his side. Maybe... maybe he really should talk to Tony before the movie actually started. That way if things went well the cuddling while they watched would be awesome. If things went to shit, it would still be early enough to call Bucky and Sam over to commiserate with him. Yeah, it was time.

"Hey, so I was thinking," he said as he took the remote from Tony. 

"Uh-oh. That can't mean anything good." Despite the light tone of voice he used, Steve could feel tension radiating from Tony and it made him feel terrible.

"No! Well. Probably not. Maybe not? It... kinda depends on you."

"This is when you tell me you're a serial killer or something, isn't it? You couldn't have told me when I did my own big reveal? That's just mean, Steve."

"If I were a serial killer I wouldn't tell you," he answered with a shrug. "That's pretty much the first rule of being a serial killer - don't let other people know."

"Oh, well _that_ makes me feel better. Promise that if you are one you won't kill me in too gruesome a manner. I want to be a pretty corpse."

"You're really something else, you know that?"

"I've actually heard that a lot," Tony told him, a strange look on his face. "But usually people sound mad about it, not like it's something they enjoy. I tend to, uh, irritate people. I know it's hard to believe since I'm so charming, but quite a few of our fellow human beings do not see my good points."

"Well I do. That's what I wanted to... Bucky said..." Pausing, Steve took a deep breath and decided it was better to just rip the band-aid off. "I don't want to see other people, and I don't want you to either. I like you a whole hell of a lot, and I know I told you that going on dates should be fun and without expectations and that's true at the beginning. But I... we never talked about whether we were exclusive, and Bucky pointed out that it could be a problem if you went out with someone else."

Tony was wearing another odd expression, one that seemed part confused, part disbelieving and part hopeful. "What if _you_ want to go out with someone else? I'm not exactly boyfriend material."

"Bullshit," he disagreed bluntly. He set the remote down in favor of taking Tony's hand, giving his fingers a soft squeeze. "I think you'd be a great boyfriend. It's been going great so far, hasn't it? And I don't want to go out with anyone else. I want to date you."

"... well, yeah, okay, it's been really..." Tony swallowed, clinging to Steve's hand. "Really good so far. But it's the slowest part of the year for me at SI - things are going to start getting crazy in a month or so. And maybe I hate all the 'business man' bullshit but I _love_ the part of my job that involves my workshop and terrorizing my minions in R &D. I'm going to be unavailable a lot, and even when we're on dates or whatever I might have to take calls or I might start designing things on napkins - people are always irritated by the napkin thing for some reason, and phone calls are only a little better. I don't... you should be able to have an exclusive boyfriend that's actually, you know. Around."

Steve gave a quiet sigh before running his free hand through his hair. It took a little bit before he could gather his thoughts - long enough that he had to let go of Tony's hand and wrap an arm around him instead to reassure him that he wasn't upset. "Okay, so parts of that might be hard," he admitted. It was better if they laid all their cards out on the table at once, he figured. "But I know that I'd be dating Tony Stark. I might not know all of what that means when it comes to the glitz and the glam, but I know what it means in terms of the genius inventor who's just as bad at shopping as I am."

"You are _so_ much worse than I am," Tony argued weakly. "You'll hate it, Steve. You'll hate dating me once things pick up at SI."

"I don't think I will. Look, maybe it won't be all... all sunshine and daffodils and unicorn farts--"

"Unicorn farts, oh my God."

"- but if we work on it and talk about stuff I think we could get through it just fine. I think we could make a go at it. I'm not asking you to promise me forever or saying that we won't ever fight or whatever. I'm just saying that this," he gestured between the two of them, then dropped a quick kiss to the tip of Tony's nose when he saw that Tony looked suspiciously teary. "What we've got is worth trying for. But it's up to you, alright?"

"But you don't want to do the casual, seeing other people kind of dating."

"No. Not with you - you're too important to me to pretend that I'm okay with that. But you don't have to let me know right away. I know I kinda side-swiped you with this and that you've got a lot to think about. So if you want to take a couple days--"

"I don't need time," Tony interrupted, curling up against Steve's side. "Well, I mean... we'll need time to work out how to work around our schedules and, you know, all that. But we can try. I can't promise it'll work and I still think you'll hate it... but we can try."

Butterflies took flight in his stomach and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning like a crazy person. Tony had agreed! Steve had a feeling his boyfriend would keep trying to talk him out of wanting this, but he could deal with that. He knew that it was Tony's low self-esteem talking rather than any sincere desire for Steve to leave him. There were definitely some rough patches ahead and he didn't know if they'd make it all the way... but having Tony willing to _try_ meant everything to him.

"So we're going steady then," he said into Tony's hair. He ignored the smack Tony gave his chest at the 'old timey talk' that Steve liked to pull out to annoy him with. It wasn't his fault his ma had been a huge fan of all the classic movies - TCM was still his favorite channel even with her gone. "Consider yourself pinned."

"Jesus fuck. I changed my mind."

"Aw, c'mon doll--"

"Steven Rogers, if you don't cut it out--"

"I'm not doing anything!" he protested, smiling too hard for anyone to take him seriously.

"Lies! You are a liar and an annoyance, and I'm not sure I wanna date you after all."

"I am the least annoying person on the planet!" he declared dramatically. "You take that back!" In an effort to turn the tide his way, Steve tried tickling the other man... and it went horribly wrong right away.

Tony, as it turned out, wasn't ticklish at all. He also had an unnerving way of zeroing in on all of Steve's most ticklish spots. Within moments he had Steve breathless from laughing, on his back on the couch and trying to scooch away from his boyfriend. Tony just followed him, attacking his ribs and stomach with glee. It didn't take long for Steve to beg for mercy - with Tony kneeling between his legs and looming over him, he could think of a few better ways to occupy their time. He had to promise to accompany Tony to every gala he had to attend in the States for a year before Tony finally relented.

It wasn't so bad though. He'd get to see Tony in a tux and it'd be a good way to get a handle on the more glamorous aspects of his boyfriend's life. Plus, once he'd stopped giggling Tony had draped himself over Steve's body, head tucked under his chin and their legs tangled together. He wasn't heavy enough that his weight bothered Steve, and it was a hell of a way to watch the movie. For the first part he got to let his fingers wander over Tony's back and stroke through his hair, more interested in Tony's soft, happy noises than he was in the plot.

About halfway through, Tony started to shiver which meant Steve _had_ to wrap his arms around the man - he couldn't let Tony be cold! When that wasn't quite enough to make Tony comfortable, he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and together they managed to wrap it around them to hold the heat in. 

Tony fell asleep before the movie was over and Steve didn't have the heart to wake him up right away. It was fine - he'd let Tony get a nap in before he had to drive home. Half an hour couldn't hurt, in his opinion, and then he'd rouse Tony and send him on his way. It would have been the perfect plan if he hadn't let the soft, steady sound of Tony's breathing put him to sleep as well.

It was worth the crick in his neck he had in the morning when he opened his eyes to find Tony there with him.

~.~.~

"You don't have to do this, Steve. Babe. Sugar lumps. We can just turn around and walk away and pretend that we never got the invitation. We could go get burgers and fries. I love burgers and fries and so do you. We could get some and invite Pepper and Sam and Bucky and maybe Rhodey could even FaceTime in for a little while and our _real_ families would be there and we could take off these fucking ties and shit and just--" Tony felt Steve's fingers wrap gently around his wrist a squeeze, which caused him to come to an abrupt stop and take a deep breath. Probably encouraged by that, Steve ran his hand up Tony's arm and around to grab hold of the back of his neck, delivering another squeeze before digging his thumb gently into the tight muscles under his hand.

"If that's really what you want to do, Tony, then that's what we'll do," his boyfriend told him, voice a comforting rumble. Steve put his lips to Tony's temple, and he did his level best to relax in return, but it was so hard. "But this is just a dinner, Tony. I've already met Jarvis and Anna, right?" That was true, and it had been a really great day. Both Jarvis and his wife had approved of their relationship - Tony was now regularly ferrying baked goods from the mansion to Steve's place. "And I know Howard and Maria too."

That was less great, because Steve didn't _really_ know his parents. He'd met their gala-selves, the masks they pulled on when they needed to dazzle and impress. They couldn't allow themselves to be anything but model parents in public, and they played the roles well. Behind closed doors when the flash of camera bulbs were gone they were different people altogether. Tony wasn't sure if he wanted Steve to meet those people.

Unfortunately, they were sort of at that stage where if he didn't allow it to happen all parties involved might jump to the completely wrong conclusion that Tony was ashamed of Steve. That he didn't want his blue collar, hard working, simple living boyfriend to invade the ritzier parts of his life. Steve, his parents and other people in the know might see the evidence and come to the conclusion that Tony didn't think Steve had a place in the parts of his life where being a Stark meant something. That couldn't be farther from the truth, and it would kill him if Steve thought that way for even a heartbeat.

Because it sure as fuck wasn't Steve Rogers that he was ashamed of.

"Yeah. Yeah. I know, I know. It's just... Steve. They're terrible. I mean, I love them - mostly Maria, I know she tries - but they're. They're not nice. Howard is going to say all kinds of awful things and pretend he’s joking, and that's if he's not already deep into a bottle of scotch. Maria won't remember anything you've talked to her about, not any of it, because she's a little, you know. Flighty. Not much holds her attention and even less of that sticks, but she... she tries, okay? She tries and she cares even if it's hard to... she tries. And God, Howard. You're going to hate me by the time tonight is over, he's going to make sure that you hate me--"

"I need you to breathe," Steve interrupted, his mouth now against Tony's ear and his hand resting over Tony's heart. "Can you do that for me doll? Take a deep breath... good. Another one? You're doing great," he crooned as Tony followed the directions. Steve was great at not interrupting unless Tony was working himself up into a panic attack - which he totally wasn't just then and even if he _was_ it was _completely justified_ \- and he would never be over that. He'd never stop appreciating the way Steve seemed completely content to just listen as Tony rambled, or the way he had not a single problem stepping in to prevent a complete meltdown on Tony's end of things. It was... it was a nice, perfect balance.

One that Howard could take away from him.

"Please don't hate me after tonight," he whimpered, hating himself for doing it.

"I couldn't ever hate you, sweetheart," Steve said against his skin. "This is dinner - just dinner. I don't give a fuck what Howard says," that was hot, okay, because usually Steve only swore out loud when they were in bed together. "And I can smile and gently remind Maria of anything we've talked about. I don't mind doing that for her or for you, alright? And look, if we get in there and it's too much, you just say the word and we'll get the hell out and get dinner somewhere else. But I'm not scared of Howard, and there's not one goddamn thing he could say that would ever make me hate you or walk away from us."

Warmth spread through Tony's limbs slow and sweet as honey. His stomach and heart fluttered a few times before settling completely, leaving him feeling more certain of himself than he'd been all day. Steve loved him - they hadn't said the words, but Tony was still pretty sure - and he wasn't leaving on account of Tony's horrible family. They could do this together and it wouldn't... wouldn't ruin anything. It was going to be fine.

"Okay. Yeah. If you're sure. But if I say 'prickly pear' - if I manage to work that into a sentence or just, like, blurt it out at the top of my lungs - then we're leaving. No questions asked, no passing 'Go' even for two hundred dollars, no goodbyes or sorry's - none of it. If I say 'prickly pear', we walk. Deal?"

"Deal. Now. We've been sitting in the car here for twenty minutes, Tony. I think we'd probably better get inside."

"Right, right. Of course. Makes sense. Can't eat in the car. But if the words--"

"Tony, if you say 'prickly pear' I will put you over my shoulder and carry you out just as fast as I can. Pinky promise." Steve promptly held out his finger, looking solemn and serious. It was their thing, and Tony didn't care how many people made fun of them for it - pinky promises fucking worked. Tony hooked Steve's with his own and nodded firmly, then took a deep breath.

"Okay. Let's do this."

Getting out of the car wasn't too scary, and the way they linked hands and held on tight kept the walk to the door from being terrifying. Tony didn't bother ringing the doorbell, and Steve's look of light disapproval could bite him - the mansion was still home even if he didn't technically live there anymore. Jarvis was standing by the door, of course, and he gave both of them a warm smile before offering to take their coats. They let him, Tony's usual happy babble silenced by the lines of strain around Jarvis' eyes and the bubbling laughter he could hear a few rooms away - that wasn't _just_ Howard and Maria.

Shit.

Tony took Steve's arm in a death-grip and tried very hard not to shout 'prickly pear' over and over. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Steve would get him the hell out of dodge, so he could only say it if he really did want to leave. They were already in the door, so they might as well say hello before he turned tail and ran like a coward. This was still going to be okay. 

Steve looked amazing in a blue-grey button up and black slacks, so his parents’ guest couldn't get on him about that. There were a few lingering stains of oil paint on Steve's fingers, but his boyfriend was never ashamed of those. If asked, Steve would just laugh and then start an impassioned talk about art that would sweep people off their feet and absolutely ruin most attempts to judge him for those little smudges. Tony couldn't do anything about Steve's job, but working security wasn't the worst and anyway they were all bigoted assholes and Steve wouldn't even care about anything they said about him, so it would be fine.

Besides, anyone Howard was likely to have invited for the evening would take way more offense at Tony's outfit and his current predicament at work. Sure his jeans were nice and dark wash, but they were still _denim_ and thus completely unacceptable. Even a suit jacket couldn't turn the band t-shirt he was wearing underneath into something his father's friends would find appropriate - he'd have been fine if it was only Howard and Maria, but the opinion of their friends mattered too much for them to let it slide now. His recent setback in negotiating more funds for the robotics division would be at the forefront of many minds belonging to Howard's coworkers, who might not even remember to ask what Steve did at all. Hell, they might spend so much time politely (covertly, viciously) insulting Tony that they'd forget to use Steve to hurt him.

A guy could hope.

"Tony, my boy!" Obadiah Stane's booming greeting was enough to make Tony relax just a little, because Obie had been taking his side - subtly, so Howard wouldn't be furious - for years. He'd help Tony and Steve get through this mostly unscathed. "Look at you... it's been too long." The large man swept in with surprising grace and pulled Tony into a tight hug that smelled like scotch and cigar smoke. On pulling back, he kept his hands on Tony's shoulders, beaming down at him. "Nice band choice, Tony. Your father," he added, pitching his voice low, for Tony and Steve's ears only. "And the rest of these old fogies might not appreciate it, but I'm a fan."

A knot of tension in his chest eased, and he shot the man a grateful smile. "Thanks Obie. I didn't know anyone else was coming - glad you're here too. You can help me fend them off." Obie laughed, a booming, rolling sound that had heads turning their way. It was a pretty small gathering, really. Besides Obie there were two board members - Doug Oliver and Thomas McBride, Pepper's ghost whispered in his ear - and their newest wives. Maria's friends Beth and Rhoda had dragged their husbands along as well, which left Obie as the only single in attendance. Not that the man would mind, since his 'lone wolf' status was one he embraced and flaunted. "God, this is going to suck ass. You remember Steve?"

"

Of course, of course - put her there, son," Obie said, holding out a hand to Steve... whose smile was now looking just a little bit fake.

"Nice to see you again, sir." Their handshake looked almost adversarial, like they might crush each other's hands, and Tony's relief skyrocketed back into panic. Steve had never said he didn't like the man who was pretty much Tony's uncle - really, he never said anything about him at all. Fuck. Shit. Abort, abort, prickly pears ho…

"Please, call me Obie! You and Tony have been together for... what now? Almost a year, isn't it? Why, you're practically family at this point!" That was... had it really almost been a year? Shit. Oh fuck. Before he could panic about _that_ , Steve answered in a voice that was way too earnest not to be fake, and why the fuck hadn't Steve said that he didn't like Obie?

"Really sir? It would be my absolute honor if you'd let me. I know you're important to Tony."

"Okay!" Tony's voice was too loud and too happy even to his own ears, but Steve and Obie were still shaking hands, and it was weird. Super weird. "Hate to break this up, but I really need to take Steve and go say hi to the parents. You know how it is. Duty calls. Bye Obie!"

"Bye Obie!" Steve parroted in that new, strange voice of his that sort of made Tony want to elbow him in the gut.

"What the hell was that?" he hissed as he lead Steve away, headed (unfortunately) to Howard and Maria.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Steve answered just as quietly, shrugging.

"Oh my fucking... we will talk about _that_ later, _Steven_." Tony promised, a headache already forming behind his right eye.

"Sorry Tony."

"It's fine. Just... mom!" Maria turned towards him with a sweet smile but a slightly puzzled look, like she wasn't entirely sure why someone would be calling her that. As soon as she saw Tony that part of her expression cleared, and she was quick to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

"Tony, darling - you're here! ... and you're... wearing... that. Oh Tony," she murmured, and Tony felt the familiar prick of guilt that came whenever he disappointed his mother.

"I didn't know we were having guests," Tony told her quietly, ignoring Steve's slight frown in favor of kissing first one of her cheeks and then the other. "If I had, I'd have worn something else."

"I didn't tell you? My goodness, I thought I had. Do forgive me darling - I've been rather lost in my work. And Sam!"

"Steve," his boyfriend corrected gently with a smile warmer than the absent, unmeant oversight warranted. "It's good to see you again Maria. Have you perfected the theory yet, or are the numbers still giving you trouble?" Steve leaned in and pressed kisses to her cheeks while she beamed at him. He didn't seem to mind when she looped her arm through his, clearly intending to stay for a while.

"The numbers are being terribly unruly. Not as bad as Tony could be as a child, of course, but still very uncooperative. And now Beth and Isabella are insisting I do more charity works for puppies or something." Tony's mother was the pinnacle of the 'absent-minded professor' stereotype, but as they walked over to join Howard, Steve very patiently listened to her talk about her only true love - math - and didn't get upset when she didn't remember even a single detail about him.

"You're late."

"Hello to you too, Howard. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Tony, don't start with that bull--"

"Howard, look! It's Steve!" Maria introduced his boyfriend with all the grace and gusto she could manage, distracting both Howard and Tony himself from a fight before it could really start. "I hadn't realized they were still together, did you? When you said you wanted to throw a little get-together to show off Tony's beau, I thought you meant a new one. Not that I'm disappointed, of course. I'm rather fond of Steve. Aren't you, Howard?"

"Better than our son sleeping around, I suppose," Howard answered disinterestedly before taking another large swallow of his drink. "Be even better if they'd managed to arrive on time. Dinner will be ruined at this rate, and a fine thanks to Anna that would be for putting up with your antics over the years, Tony."

Steve was not only frowning now, he was also opening his mouth, and that was just... just a recipe for bad. "Steve! Drinks. Are you thirsty? I'm thirsty. So let's do the drink thing. Come on, come on, no need to be shy, I'll even make you that fru-fru candy drink that you like, I'm sure we have all the necessary... ah! Thomas. Sorry, didn't see you there."

The board member he'd accidentally bumped into was glowering with the force of ten suns as his pretty young wife dabbed at his chest ineffectually. "Dammit, Chloe, just... just go. Suit’s ruined and you're not helping... just..." Sniffing, the woman did as she was told, pausing only to give a haughty flip of her hair first. "So. Tony. And your... _partner_."

The amount of disgust and disdain he managed to pack into the single word was almost impressive. This was one of the homophobic ones, Tony remembered suddenly. Crap. Fuck. Shit. "I'm surprised you're still around. Rogers, wasn't it? Commitment isn't exactly a strong point for you people, after all. Though I suppose all the Stark money is reason enough to stay." Before Steve could reply, his attention was already back on Tony. "And you. Have you given up that pipe dream of yours yet? Weapons are still the future of the company, Tony, not your little toys."

Tony felt heat creeping up the back of his neck, and he did his best to swallow his temper. It helped that Steve settled a broad hand on the small of his back. "My 'little toys'," he started, trying to channel Pepper's ability to stay polite while ripping someone to shreds. "Have applications that are far more broad than simple weapons ever could be. I'm not saying we need to do anything crazy like shut down weapons development completely, but there's no reason that SI shouldn't start broadening its horizons. Otherwise we're going to fall behind--"

"I've heard this from you before," Thomas told him dismissively. "And I still don't buy it. Maybe if you'd come into reality with the rest of us once in awhile--"

"Excuse us, we were on our way to get drinks," Steve interrupted, leaving Tony gaping as he steered the both of them toward the bar. His boyfriend didn't interrupt like that, not so rudely or with such a brittle smile. Steve didn't low-key glare at people or subtly bump shoulders with them, and he didn't use his size and muscle to intimidate other people. Not usually. The Steve who'd come with him to dinner, however, did all of that and more.

Every time the conversation at hand started to veer into waters that were even vaguely insulting towards Tony, Steve interrupted and changed the topic of conversation. At every backhanded compliment, he drew himself up to his full height and glared the speaker into submission. He kept one arm locked around Tony's waist and seemed to be tempted multiple times to just steal him away. If he hadn't found it all so fascinating, Tony would have let him.

Pulling out of the small crowd waiting for dinner to be announced didn't save them, not when Howard was leading the charge in the 'business' circle. If Steve had pulled them away to regroup closer to where Maria and the other women were discussing charity or whatever, things probably would have been fine. Maria probably only barely remembered they were at the party anyway. 

Howard was, of course, determined to embarrass his failure of a son and his date (who was a _man_ and thus would never be able to provide the necessary heir to the Stark empire) whenever possible. Tony could hear a few of the jokes that had him as a punchline, ones that made his ears burn and that familiar ache well up in his chest. He'd been trying for _years_ , his whole life really, to be what Howard wanted him to be. Every decision he made, every weapon he invented, everything he built... it was all rooted in the desire to make his father proud.

Why couldn't he make Howard proud of him?

He didn't realize there were tears of frustration pricking his eyes until Steve swooped in and pressed soft, sweet kisses to first the left and then the right. "Hold my drink, doll," he murmured quietly. "I have to go make a scene."

"Wha--" Before he could really process what was going on, Tony was holding Steve's strawberry-red drink and gaping after the blond as he strode into the middle of the business circle. He interrupted the joke Doug was telling (with Howard's gleeful encouragement) about Tony's previous promiscuity. God, he hated that Steve was hearing this - why the hell would his boyfriend want to stay with him after hearing about the way Tony'd dropped to his knees in a public restaurant and sucked like an obedient slut? Why would he be proud to be dating Tony when his own father had spent the last forty-five minutes laughing at his expense?

Of course, just then Howard was glaring up at Steve for ruining the fun. "Excuse me!" Steve called - his voice wasn't as booming as Obie's, but everyone still fell silent and turned his way. "Thanks - I just have a quick announcement to make, and we won't be staying much longer," he added to everyone's obvious displeasure and Tony's bewilderment. Why weren't they staying? Steve had been the one to say they should come and oh God they were going to leave so Steve could break up with him and Tony guessed he was just glad that he wasn't going to do it in front of everyone. "I mean, it was nice to get an invitation and all, and thanks for having us, Maria - maybe you, me and Tony could get lunch sometime."

"It was lovely having you dear," Maria answered serenely, raising her glass to him. "And I love lunch - call my office and we'll get something in the book."

"Of course," Steve agreed with a boyish grin. "You're a doll. As for _you_ ," he continued, voice turning hard and full of disdain as he got Howard in his sights. "I hope very much not to see you outside of a gala or other event ever again - that'll be up Tony, of course. Tony, your son, who is the smartest, sweetest, warmest human being I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. From what I understand, none of you have brought shit to the table when it comes to designs or fresh ideas at Stark Industries for years, so why the _fuck_ you think you have the right to dismiss him while he’s picking up your slack I'll never know. He could invent circles around the 'great' Howard Stark, and he doesn't need any sleazeball business partners to help him do it," he added with a glare at Obie.

That wasn't fair, in Tony's opinion, but the way his heart was living in his throat wouldn't let him say so. Steve was... Steve was standing right in the middle of them all, saying... saying _nice things_ about Tony. When this group got together nobody ever said anything nice about him. Doug and Thomas hated him, Obie didn't like to rock the boat, and the women were always benignly neglectful of his presence. This particular group was the one Howard invited to dinner when he wanted Tony to remember his place, remember how much of a failure he was. To have someone, to have Steve doing the opposite was... it was sort of breaking his brain a little. A lot.

Downing what remained of his rum and coke eased the pain of cognitive dissonance a little.

"What the hell are yo--"

"Tony Stark," Steve practically bellowed over Howard's attempt to slow him down. "Is worth more than all-a you put together, and it has fuck all to do with his money. He is one of the most amazing men I've ever met, and he deserves more than you assholes trying to rip into him this way. Must burn you, knowing that no matter how many chunks you rip outta him Tony'll always be bigger, brighter and _more_ than any of you ever have a hope of being. You all oughta be ashamed of yourselves, but especially you, Mr. Stane, for staying quiet and you, Mr. Stark for encouraging people to do this to your son. It ain't fair that my ma and my da, who would have loved Tony as much as I do," holy shit, holy fucking shit. "Are both in the ground and you're still walking around acting like a bully toward your own flesh and blood. It's a goddamned tragedy. By the way, _Thomas_ ,"

It was wrong, probably, to be getting a little bit turned on by all of this. Steve's words weren't exactly masterpiece theater, and they weren't anywhere near as cutting as the ones Tony would have chosen if he'd managed to find the strength to stand up for himself that way. He was no Pepper either, cutting people down to size eloquently and politely... but fuck, did he mean every word he was saying. Tony felt that down to his toes, and even if it was still really fucking weird to have someone taking his side at one of these awful dinners it was also... kind of a little bit sexy.

"I've ignored all those little homophobic hints you've dropped because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, because _I_ have manners and at least a little class. But before I leave, and even though you have no business knowing anything about our sex life, I'd like to give you a taste of your own medicine. I'm a serial monogamist and I have no intention of leaving Tony anytime soon if ever. While I make you squirm I can put Doug's worries to rest too - Tony doesn't need to look anywhere else for sexual satisfaction. I can take a nice dick up the ass - and his is _very_ nice - as well as I can give one."

"Young man--"

"What the devil--"

"Tony! Control your--"

"Holy shi--"

"If there's not enough lube handy or neither of us is in the mood for a lot of prep," Steve continued loudly over the protests of everyone else, unholy glee on his face as he kept his eyes locked on Howard's. "I am more than happy to be the one doing the sucking. I love the taste, love the weight of him on my tongue, and the noises he makes are absolutely delicious. I doubt any of you've ever left a partner really satisfied," here all the women began to snicker, probably in agreement. Steve just smiled and kept right on going. "So you probably don't know what I'm talking about, but there is _nothing_ I enjoy more than going down on my guy until he's moaning my name coming undone. So he doesn't need to look elsewhere for 'fun', and I won't be stealing his shit and heading for the hills. We're quite happy together, and we're going to stay that way for quite some time. Have a lovely evening."

Steve ignored the shocked, disgusted faces he left behind him as he stalked back over to Tony. He held eye contact, maybe waiting for Tony to say he'd gone too far or protest their apparent departure, Tony didn't know. All he knew was that he loved what he saw in Steve's expression and that he loved Steve himself. The blond didn't stop until his body was pressed right up against Tony's, which was when he snagged his drink again and finished it off. As soon as it was gone, he dropped the glass onto the thick carpet and bent down to catch Tony's mouth in a long, passionate kiss.

That made it easy to ignore the way Howard was shouting, the offended exclamations from the other men, and the catcalls from the women. It was just Tony and Steve - the rest of the world didn't matter. Tony dropped his own glass to wrap his arms around Steve's shoulders, holding on for dear life. The kiss stayed hot and heavy - though Steve didn't grope him the way he would have in private - and Tony was breathless when Steve finally relented.

"Prickly pear," he growled against Tony's lips. Tony's laugh turned to an embarrassingly high pitched squeal when Steve grabbed him and tossed him over one shoulder with ease. The force of his grin had his cheeks hurting before they were even out of the room. He got to watch their shocked, enraged faces (mostly the men) on the way out, which was just the best. He gave a cheerful wave and, just before they turned the corner, gave Steve's ass a playful smack. The man carrying him barked out a laugh of his own, and as they made their way down the hall Tony was pretty sure he heard his mother say 'what a delightful young man' over the renewed shouting from Howard.

"I'll take both our coats, Jarvis," Steve said as they neared the entrance, sounding downright peppy.

"Of course. Do hurry to your car - I'd hate for the young master to catch a cold."

"The 'young master'," Steve answered dryly, keeping tight hold of Tony as he tried to wriggle free. "Is a pain in my ass when he's sick, so I'll get him in the car as fast as I can."

"Very good, Steve. My wife and I suspected you might not last long, so she took the liberty of packing up some food for you to take along with you."

"That was real nice of her." He loved when Steve's voice went all soft and warm over Jarvis and Anna that way - he really, really wanted his boyfriend to get along with the couple he often wished were his parents. "Thank her and give her a hug for me, if you don't mind. And here," he added, turning so Tony could see Jarvis. "He can carry the containers - it'll make it easier for me to get into the car."

"Hi Jarvis!" Tony greeted with a grin. "Steve yelled at everyone. He's the best. Or he would be if he let me down," he amended, smacking Steve's ass again and wriggling to drive the point home. "I can walk perfectly fine, you know!"

"I know."

"Steve is the best," Jarvis agreed with a nonplussed little smile, like he'd seen Tony get lugged around like a sack of potatoes a million times already. "For you, at the very least, he is the best. Make sure you let him have one of the pieces of cake, Tony. I'll know if you don't and I'll tell my Anna."

"Tattle tale," Tony said even as he accepted the containers full of Anna's delicious food.

"Indeed. Have a lovely evening, the both of you. And Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for standing up for him. Even if I never needed to know that much about your love lives... thank you."

The naked gratitude in Jarvis' voice had Tony blushing - he knew that meant Steve's face was probably delightfully pink as well and he didn't even get to see it!

"You don't gotta thank me. It wasn't right, what they were all saying, and I... I'd do anything for him. So don't thank me."

"As you say, sir."

"Goodnight, Jarvis."

"Bye Jarvis!"

Steve was quiet as he took them to the car and as he carefully set Tony down on his feet. He didn't speak as he took the containers from Tony and secured them in the back seat, though he did briefly break his silence when he asked for the keys. Tony handed them over without complaint, even though it was his car and he'd been the one to drive them there.

Steve usually had a pretty good handle on his temper, but when he was angry Tony knew he liked to drive - it helped him focus and get his feelings under control. So Tony didn't complain, just slid into the passenger's seat and buckled up. Steve joined him in the car a few moments later, and he white-knuckled the steering wheel all the way down the winding drive that lead to Stark Mansion.

The tension he was carrying seemed to ease once they were on the main road, which helped Tony breathe a bit easier as well. Though…

"Did you... did you mean it? All that stuff you said to... to Howard and everyone. Did you mean it?" Tony didn't want to sound needy or weak, or like... like he needed Steve to tell him he was amazing all the time, because he didn't. He knew that Howard and the board and most of their acquaintances saw him a certain way and their impression of him wasn't exactly a great one. He just... he also knew that Steve had gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, and maybe he didn't... maybe he didn't mean the things that had come out of his mouth. They were together, sure, but they hadn't said they loved each other or really talked about where this was going or anything like that.

So he just... needed to know if Steve meant it.

"Hey..." Steve said quietly, eyes on the road even as he offered one hand to Tony for him to hold. "Of course I did. Every fucking word. I mean..." Tony watched as a blush spread over his boyfriend's cheeks, visible even in the panels of light and shadow thrown off by the streetlights. "I oughta apologize for what I said about, you know... the way we... it's private, for us and only us, and I shouldn't have... I am sorry, about that. I shouldn't have done it without asking you first, but I was just so... who the _fuck_ do they think they are, talking about you like that? Like you don't mean anything, like you weren't the smartest, most amazing person in that whole goddamn room? And I don't care if you slept with everyone you met at those awful galas before I came along, I don't - nothing wrong with sex, long as it's between consenting adults, though it boils my blood that maybe sometimes it wasn't all the way consensual on your part, but you've asked me to let that go. I don't give a shit who you slept with before me or how many there were, but they had _no right_ \--"

"I know, stud muffin," Tony murmured, dragging Steve's hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. "They shouldn't have been telling jokes like that in front of you."

"They shouldn't be telling jokes like that at all!" Steve shouted, immediately quieting when he felt Tony wince. "Sorry, sorry. I'm gonna... hold on. Just... gimme a second to pull over, okay? Thought driving would help, but if we're gonna talk, I gotta put this in park before I crash and kill us both." He clung to Tony's hand as he looked for a place to do that, and Tony held on just as tight in return. 

Tony didn't think he'd ever seen Steve rattled like this... but then, he'd never been around such a concentrated cloud of 'anti-Tony' before. Enough people at the galas were fond of him that Steve might have gotten whispers or hints of stuff like that, but he maybe hadn't realized that Howard both bought and sold the sentiments, or that the board tended to treat Tony as either an unruly, ungrateful child or the punchline of a joke.

Nobody but Pepper and Rhodey had ever reacted to the realization negatively the way Steve had. Even they hadn't gone so far to make it clear that they didn't agree. Not that he blamed them. Pepper wanted to keep working with Tony and Rhodey was probably worried that if he didn't keep complete control he'd start punching out old white men which, as a young black man, probably wouldn't end well for him. Besides, Tony had been adamant that he could fight his own battles, so they were content to let him do that and ply him with cuddles and sweet words when they were alone. Steve was the first person to say 'fuck it' to the consequences and really go to bat for him.

Tony had known he loved Steve for a while - this whole fiasco had just cemented the idea in his mind.

They didn't speak again until Steve had the (very expensive, very explode-able) car parked in a nearly deserted parking lot. "I meant every goddamn word of it." Steve's voice was husky with feeling as he turned toward Tony and took his other hand as well. He held eye contact as he pulled both of Tony's hands to his mouth to press a kiss to each palm, keeping hold of them once that was done. "You are... you are amazing. You're the kind of smart they all wish they could be - the way your mind works is beautiful. Even I can see that much. So what if it's different than the way mine does, or if you do things a little different because of it? They shouldn't be acting like those quirks and traits of yours are something you should be ashamed of, because they're all just part of that amazing package. And you shine, did you know that? Like... like a candle in the dark or something, I don't know. I just know that it's brighter wherever you are, and I can see that. So can Pepper and Rhodey and even my friends - and my friends, God love 'em, are fucking morons."

Tony laughed and was surprised by the wet sound of it. He was even more shocked to realize that a few tears had started to run down his cheeks. Steve let go of his left hand to gently, carefully wipe away one tear with his thumb, hand cupping the side of his face after.

"It kills me to know that they say things like that at all, let alone where you can hear 'em. You're so... you acted at first like it didn't even matter, so they have to do it all the time. You don't deserve that, Tony. You deserve... you should have a dad that's so damn proud of you he just about bursts with it, because you are a goddamned wonder. You deserve a mom who remembers you even when you aren't in the room. You deserve the whole world and I hate that I can't give it to you. What I can do is refuse to listen to that fucking garbage they were spewing - if you let me, I can make damn sure you never hear it when I'm around either."

"Language," Tony tried past his trembling lower lip, searching Steve's eyes. "You only swear when we're doing the sex, usually. Dunno if I'm really, really touched or just super horny. Not fair, babe." Steve gave a chuckle of his own, then leaned in to brush a few feather-light kisses against his lips. When he came to a stop, his thumb was still sweeping over Tony's skin in a gentle caress, their foreheads touching. "... Steve?" he asked, even knowing he should just let it go. "Did you... did you also mean it when you... You said that your parents would love me as much as you do. Did... you meant that too?"

Steve's breath caught, and then he let out a long sigh. "Had it planned, you know," he said quietly. "It was gonna be the most romantic thing. I made reservations at Per Se--"

"You _hate_ Per Se."

"You love it though. I have reservations for next week, and then I thought we could maybe go on a nice walk, and I could... you know. Tell you. I was gonna tell you and then see if you wanted to maybe move in together, because... because I do love you, and we're good together, Tony. I think we could really make it, you know? We could go all the way." Steve stopped, blushing again as he pulled away just a little. "I think so anyway. So yeah, I meant it. Well, they probably wouldn't love you just as much as I do, but they would have loved you. Bet they still do if they're somewhere they can see us. You're amazing and you make me happy - 'course they love you."

"You're a giant fucking sap, Rogers," Tony accused, fully aware of the fact that he was crying now. Steve, thank God, was smiling instead of pulling away or looking offended by his lack of response. "You should be a maple tree - you could keep all of Canada in syrup with all that sap."

"Shucks, Tony. You sure know how to compliment a guy," he teased in return, eyes sparkling in the dim light. Tony knew he should probably respond verbally - he should let Steve know that he loved him back and that _yes_ , they should live together and they could absolutely make it all the way - but he just... it was too much.

There were too many emotions and love didn't even really begin to express how he felt about Steve just then, and it wasn't even about physical attraction when he pulled Steve forward and gave him a hard, messy, passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss that had them both panting for breath only a few seconds in, the kind that you gave someone because words just weren't _enough_.

"I love you too," Tony managed when they finally separated. "Love you so much, was afraid to... I've never... _Steve_ ," he whined, dragging him forward into another kiss. It ended sooner than he would have liked, and Steve tried to soothe his whimpers of protest by tucking Tony's head under his chin and making calming sounds. "Wanna move in together - your apartment is better."

"Yours is bigger," Steve commented idly, though Tony could hear him smiling.

"Yours is warmer," Tony returned, and Steve wrapped his arms around him and gave him a squeeze of understanding. They both knew it had nothing to do with temperature. "Plus I think you can have animals. I want a dog. Maybe a cat too. Yeah... a dog and a cat. And an iguana."

"An iguana?" Skepticism ran rampant in Steve's voice as he carefully hoisted Tony over the gear shifter and into his lap. Cuddling in a car was kind of uncomfortable, but Tony thought they both needed the contact and reassurance.

"Yes, Steven, an iguana. I want a cat, a dog and an iguana. And they're all going to be ours because we're going to be together and in love until we're both old and gray, so we can have animals together. Fuck, we could probably manage kids together if we decided we wanted to."

"We probably could. Someday."

"We could parent the fuck out of some kids if we wanted."

"Let’s wait on kids until we're a little older, alright? We should make sure we can keep the iguana from eating the dog and cat before we try to wrangle any human children. Maybe get married and move to a bigger place too."

"Yeah. So just the animals and your apartment for now, and we'll talk about the other stuff later."

"Can't wait," Steve whispered into his hair, making Tony grin and fight down a giggle. "I love you, Tony Stark."

"Love you too, Steve Rogers. Now take me home - your apartment now, in case that wasn't clear - so we can eat the food Anna gave us. Next week we can go to Per Se and eat yummy, ridiculously expensive food to celebrate, 'cause I can probably get moved in by then. Would you be upset if I kept the house for the workshop in the basement for a while? I don't... I don't want to live there, but I'd have to buy your whole complex to put in a workshop there."

"Wouldn't mind at all, Tony. I want you to be able to work - part of why I love you is for your crazy-beautiful brain and 'cause I get to bring you food and a change of clothes when you spend too long locked away from the world. I love sleepy manic inventor Tony even if he's a pain in my ass."

"I love overbearing mother hen Steve even if he's a pain in mine. Now mush!" Steve laughed and Tony joined in as they shifted to get Tony back into the right seat. They shared a few more kisses over the gear shifter before Steve started the car up again and pulled out of the parking lot to get them home - Tony knew they were going to hold hands the whole way. They'd been driving in happy, comfortable silence for about ten minutes before Steve finally asked what Tony knew he'd been dying to ask.

"... why in the world do you want an iguana? We can totally get one, but... why? I need to know the why, Tony, before it drives me crazy."

In the ensuing discussion on the merits of lizards in general and iguanas in particular, Tony basked in the warm, sure knowledge that Steve loved him and they were going to make it all the way. Steve was... Steve was sort of it for him. He needed to plan the best first anniversary celebration ever, and then (once they'd settled into living together) he needed to buy a ring.

Steve had been the one to initiate this semi-terrifying step forward in their relationship.

Tony wanted to be the one to pop the next question.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam! Right on schedule. I'm way more proud of myself than I should be, but there you go. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Also, happy holidays if you celebrate them. If you don't, hope you had a nice Sunday. <3
> 
> Thank you so much to my amazing beta, KiernaSerea, without whom I would be lost.
> 
> Comments are love, and thanks for reading!!

Shopping with Tony for groceries was fun; shopping with Tony for clothes was a process. Shopping with Tony for _furniture_ was a damned nightmare. He consistently snubbed Steve's choice of new couch, and for no good reason that Steve could see. Several times he hadn't even bothered to sit down or discuss things - he'd just wrinkled that adorable little nose of his, said 'no' and walked away. It was infuriating and Steve was beyond even pretending to be in a good mood anymore.

"What about this one?" he asked from where he was sitting on a couch that he honestly hated. It was leather - the cat who'd be moving in with them as soon as the shelter processed the paperwork would destroy it. The leather itself was a sickly, disgusting brown color that reminded him of baby poop and it wasn't even _comfortable_. Steve still hoped Tony said yes just so this would be over and they could go home.

"Ew. Steve. Really? _Fuck_ no." At least Tony had a reason for the nose wrinkle this time, but Steve was still not pleased.

"Pretty sure it's the last couch in the whole fu--" he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to recover his equilibrium. He loved Tony, enjoyed living with him, and he was not going to let this ruin their relationship. His boyfriend - the wonderful, adorable idiot that he was - didn't seem to realize how close Steve was to snapping. "We've looked at everything else in the store, Tony." To his own ears his words were too careful, too measured; Tony didn't seem to hear it. "You've said no to every suggestion I made."

"You have terrible taste," his boyfriend answered without even looking over, paying more attention to a nearby coffee table than he did to Steve. It was, admittedly, an interesting coffee table that Steve wouldn't mind owning. "Hey, what do you think of this?" Tony asked, and Steve was struck by the sudden realization that he _hated that fucking table_.

"I think we came here for a couch," he snapped, surging to his feet. "And I'm pretty sure you've rejected every single one they have in their inventory." Tony was looking at him like Steve had just murdered a puppy in front of him, and he could feel his headache starting to grow. "Pick a goddamned couch, Tony - I want to go home."

"... I just wanted..." Tony started in a whisper, shoulders hitching up and head ducking down; Steve felt like a monster. "Never mind. Whatever couch you liked best is fine."

Dammit, that wasn't what he'd wanted, and now he didn't know how to fix this.

"Tony, I..." Steve took a step forward and felt his heart break when Tony stepped back and away from him. Tony's eyes were still on the floor, and now he had his arms crossed over his chest - it almost looked like he was hugging himself. Steve was the worst boyfriend in the world. Fuck. "Hey," he murmured, trying to get his guy to look over at him. "I'm sorry Tony - I am, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just. We've been here. All. Damn. Day. It's almost three, Tony, and we had breakfast at nine. I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I don't even know why you said no to some of the ones I pointed out. I'm just... I'm hungry and frustrated. I'm not mad at you. Not really. I'm sorry. ... can I maybe hug you, or...?"

Tony peeked up at his face, eyes searching, then nodded and slowly shuffled forward into Steve's open arms. Relief hit him hard as he wrapped Tony up in a hug, holding him close. "Sorry Steve," Tony mumbled into his shoulder, fingers grabbing hold of the back of Steve's shirt. "I just... it's the first time we're picking something out together. So I wanted it to be, you know. Perfect. Sorry." Steve melted at the reason behind Tony's pickiness, and he wished he'd let Tony know how frustrated he'd been getting sooner.

"I'm sorry too - shouldn't have snapped," Steve grumbled, then pressed a loud kiss to Tony's temple. "Alright. We have to go home with a couch picked out, because otherwise our friends will mock us forever," he said, pulling away enough to look down into his boyfriend's face. "So how about this - we'll get the coffee table because it's actually really nice and that was a good pick on your part. Then we can go eat lunch so I don't keep trying to eat your face every time you annoy me. Because as much as I love you, you can be a little bit annoying."

"Yeah," Tony agreed with a grin and a shrug. Steve knew that he liked the way Steve found him occasionally annoying but still wanted him around. "I can be. And maybe when I saw that you weren't even looking at the couches anymore before you asked what I thought I maybe might have started being annoying on purpose."

"I'm shocked," he drawled, prompting Tony to start laughing. "But I deserved it. You're right, this is special - it's the first time we're shopping for stuff that's going to belong to _us_. Now that the coffee table has broken the ice, why don't we talk about things we liked and things we didn't while we eat, and then we can hit up a different furniture store when we're done eating to see if we can find something."

"If we can't?"

"Then we burn down the apartment for the insurance money and flee into the night." 

Steve loved the way Tony laughed at the suggestion almost as much as he loved the quick kiss he got before they separated. Lunch was spent bickering over a piece of paper about the kind of couch they wanted, discovering too late that they liked things that were almost the complete opposite of each other. The conversation continued in the car ride to the next furniture store, and he was pretty sure they drove the store employee absolutely insane while she showed them around the store.

She was a professional though, and in the end it was a good thing she was there. With her to act as a negotiator, they settled on a long couch that Tony didn't find too ugly, and Steve found _almost_ comfortable enough. They each also left with an armchair that didn't clash horribly with their new centerpiece but that they loved completely. Suzie was a miracle worker and deserved a raise; Steve was pretty sure the Treaty at Versailles had only been half as complicated as the concessions she'd negotiated out of them.

The whole way home they 'fought' over interior design. Tony kept asking him weird questions about color schemes and wood grains, while Steve wanted to know if Tony understood the fact that people were often supposed to use furniture for sitting on, so it needed to be comfy. It lasted through dinner and well into their after dinner TV watching, where Steve was sitting on one end of their current, ugly _and_ uncomfortable couch with Tony laying down, his head in Steve's lap.

By they time they went to bed together, Steve was pretty sure he was never going to own a piece of furniture he really, really loved ever again. Well, except for the armchair that would be arriving in two days along with the couch - he suddenly understood why men were often shown to be so protective of their armchairs. He got it now in a way he'd never expected to. That was his damn armchair, the only thing he loved completely, and his 'wife' could have it when he pried it out of Steve's cold, dead hands.

The coffee table went well with everything, at least, and their new cat - Sinnabon, after her coloring, markings and general attitude - loved the couch. It was her favorite place to lounge, either with them petting her or splayed out along the top, surveying all she owned. Funnily enough, Steve discovered a love for Tony's armchair - it leaned back a little further than his, and it was actually pretty supportive of his back - while Tony spent many a cold morning curled up in Steve's chair even while refusing to admit he found it comfortable. Life was weird that way he guessed.

And Tony still couldn't get rid of his armchair unless it was over his dead body, so there was that.

Pseudo-married life with Tony was fun.

~.~.~

It wasn't that Tony didn't trust Steve with his tools in particular. It was just that he didn't really trust Steve with tools at all.

He'd seen his boyfriend of a year and three months try to put Ikea furniture together and it... hadn't been pretty. Steve had ended up in tears while Sinnabun meowed plaintively from where she'd managed to get trapped while Steve built it around her. "Tony... Tony fix it," he'd whined, sticking his fingers as far as they would go into Sinnabun's new home. "Get her out before she runs out of air or... or starves to death or just decides she hates me forever. Please Tony."

Steve shouldn't have worried about the last thing - their first fur-baby was entranced by the experience and continued to seek out small, semi-dark holes to hide in. It was a bitch to deal with at three in the morning when she wanted to dart out at vulnerable ankles on their way to the toilet.

After that Tony'd pretty much put an embargo on Steve when it came to tools. Anything more complicated than putting a nail in the wall to hang a picture required supervision so Steve didn't hurt himself, the cat, or the floppy-eared rescue dog that had joined their merry group a few weeks after the Ikea Incident. Preferably the 'supervision' role would go to Steve, where he could say encouraging things while Tony (very safely) did what needed to be done.

Workshop safety was incidental; at home where Steve and the fur-babies lived it was essential.

So when he came home one afternoon to find his boyfriend attempting to put up a porch swing all by himself - the cat watching the show from the window and their dog doing the same in wide-eyed worry from where he was chained to the porch - Tony was, understandably, a little... perturbed.

"Steven Grant Rogers! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? You drop that drill right now, or so help me--" Tony spared a brief moment to wonder how he'd turned into the 'nagging wife' in the scenario, but quickly let that go.

"Tony!" Steve greeted, pure happiness radiating from his face. It was almost like he didn't realize that Tony was pis... _perturbed_. "Hey, I wasn't expecting you home for a few hours yet. Look what the landlady gave us permission to put up!" Having a landlady was another thing Tony wasn't super fond of, but Steve wasn't ready to 'commit' to a house they actually owned yet. Tony put up with it because she was a lovely elderly woman named Rosa who let Tony pay to do pretty much whatever they wanted with the place. "I always wanted one growing up, but apartment living didn't exactly encourage it, you know?"

"Okay, that's... that's great Steve," Tony agreed, eyes on the drill as he approached. "Glad you get to fulfill a dream, but Steve. Honey bunch, stinky pits, light of my life who possesses deadly ninja farts. I need you to put down the drill before someone gets hurt. Nothing good happens when you are in possession of the power tools. So can you put that down for me babe?"

"It's not that hard, Tony," Steve answered, frowning at him unhappily. "She left me instructions. It's just drilling a few holes and, you know. Hoisting it up. Easy - there's even pictures."

It was hard not to flinch when Steve accidentally started the drill while he was talking, but Tony managed. "The instructions for the desk had pictures too babe. You remember how that turned out, right? Because it didn't end well. It ended in tears and a very sneaky kitty. You're not supposed to do the whole handyman routine without me here."

"I'm not some dumb kid with a handsaw or something, Tony. I'm pretty sure I can handle this without you being all condescending about it."

"I'm not being condescending!" Tony returned, hoping his voice wasn't as much of a squawk as he thought it might be. "I am just a literal genius, and my whole _thing_ is working with tools! So stop being so fucking stubborn and _let me do it_!"

Shouting, suddenly he was shouting which was not helpful. It had just been a long day at work, and he was pissed-slash-perturbed and Steve wasn't following the _rules_. He was still holding that fucking drill, and they'd had a gentleman's agreement.

"You're not _tall enough to do it_!" Steve yelled back, which oh fuck no he _did not_. Chewbarka whined uncertainly, edging away from both of them; Sinnabun was hunkered down, butt in the air and tail wriggling - she clearly scented a coming show. The dog didn't like the yelling and neither did Tony. Even Steve looked a little surprised as his own volume before he got that mulish look on his face that meant trouble. "Well you aren't, Tony, and I could do this just fine."

"Not with my drill you can't," Tony answered, rising to the bait even though he knew he should just walk away and let it go. Steve probably wouldn't kill himself or anyone else, and he should just let it go. But they'd had an agreement, and Tony just couldn't find it in himself to walk away. Not after the shitty day - week, really - he'd had at work. "Tell you what, you manage to find your own damn drill and you can do whatever stupid shit you want with it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That's mine, and I'm saying you can't use it."

"So now things are 'yours' or 'mine'?"

"When it comes to my fucking power tools, yeah. So drop. The. Drill."

"Oh, you want me to drop it?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

"Fine." Steve's snappy, stand-offish tone should have been a clue... but Tony was taken completely by surprise when Steve chucked the drill - Tony's prized, expensive, wonderful drill - away from himself and onto their _paved driveway_. For a long, silent moment they both stared at the shattered power drill in shock. "... shit," Steve breathed, and Tony saw red.

"You... you _asshole_!" Tony shouted, heading for the house in long, angry strides. Part of him wanted to go right for Steve, but... he loved the big, stupid idiot. Besides, he didn't want to scare their dog, and their cat was deriving way too much satisfaction from watching this. So to save his relationship with the dumbest boyfriend to ever boyfriend in the history of boyfriends, Tony was going to have to improvise. "'Scuse me Chewbarka, there's a good boy, nobody's mad at you," he cooed, giving his good boy a scratch on the ears before edging around him to grab the hose. "I just need to teach your other daddy not to be a big fat stupid-head."

Once he was armed, he turned his weapon on Steve, free hand resting on the nozzle that would turn the water on. "Tony, don't... look, I'm sorry doll, but don't... we can talk about this, okay? I didn't mean to--"

"Sorry babe - honor demands it. Put 'em up."

"Tony, come on. The directions are up here and I... I really just wanted a porch swing. So maybe--"

"I don't need the directions, Steve. But unless you want your precious porch swing doused right along with you, I'd maybe step to one side."

Tony wasn't a monster. Yeah he was pissed and having a shit day... but he could be generous. He did love the guy, after all. Steve looked him over, frowning in thought, then sighed and raised his hands. He carefully walked down the stairs and then - like Tony - paused and gave the dog a few quick scratches on the head. 

"Your pops is a hard man to cross," he murmured, giving Tony a quick, sorrowful look. "But I guess I gotta take my lumps. I shouldn't have thrown his drill no matter how mad I was. I'm probably lucky he's not smashing easels in retribution."

"Damn fucking straight," Tony agreed in a mutter, trying not to be charmed by the way Steve's lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

"So you stay over here and stay dry, Chewbarka. This'll be over soon. I hope."

"Yeah yeah. You said your goodbyes, now walk the plank."

"Did I mention how sorry I am?"

"Do you want to be sorrier? Because I absolutely could go for the easels babe."

"I'm going, I'm going," his boyfriend muttered, moving out into the yard with his hands held in the air. "This is going to be really cold, huh?"

"Small price to pay, stinky pits. That was my favorite drill and very close to being my favorite power tool. Part of me kind of wants to shoot you in the arm with a BB gun, not just douse you in water. Count your lucky stars one of those wasn't handy," he told Steve, not unkindly. "And that it's not snowing. That would really suck for you."

Steve sighed and turned to face Tony with the air of a man facing an actual firing squad. "Do your worst," he challenged. It was one Tony was quite happy to take up. He cranked the water on full blast, and the way Steve yelped when the cold, wet blast hit him was incredibly gratifying. It didn't take long for Tony to get Steve's whole front soaked from head to toe; when he put his thumb over the hole to change the direction of the stream, his boyfriend shook himself like a wet dog. "Holy shit, that's freezing," he hissed, trying to glare at Tony. It didn't work though, at least not until he'd pushed back all the hair that had been plastered to his forehead. "So now we're square, right?"

Tony pretended to think about that for a moment, even if his anger with Steve had ebbed almost completely. Now he was feeling more playful than anything, and Steve looked _damned_ good with his thin, nearly see-through shirt clinging to his muscles the way they were. And his khakis were now hugging his thighs almost obscenely too. 

It was a great view, the activity was cathartic, and Tony was still a little pissed off about his drill. "Nope," he answered his boyfriend, popping the 'p' sound at the end loudly. "Your ass is grass, Rogers!" He let the water go full force again, laughing when that caused Steve to yelp out another curse word.

He hadn't really expected the other man to take it for long, and he'd been right. Soon enough, Steve gave a playful roar and charged; it was time for Tony to give a yelp of his own, drop the hose and run. Thank fuck his boyfriend ignored the weapon available to him and just chased after Tony. Chewbarka was living up to his name, yipping and barking and dancing on his chain as he watched the fun happen without him. Their yard wasn't that big, so it wasn't exactly hard for Steve to corner him, then tackle him to the ground.

Gently, of course, and he'd even turned as they fell over to take the brunt of the impact himself. Tony wasn't ticklish, thank God, but Steve didn't let that stop him. He just attacked with light, teasing pinches instead, while Tony swore and tried to wriggle away. It took about five minutes before they both ceased, collapsing in a pile of entwined limbs. Steve was wet and cold and now Tony was too; suppressing a shiver, he snuggled closer to his boyfriend and let out a quiet sigh.

"We okay?" Steve asked against his hair, one hand smoothing up and down Tony's back.

"Yeah," he said in return. "We're okay. I'm sorry - it's been a hard week at work, and I didn't want to bitch about it to you so I just held it in. Then today it just... look. You're not... I know you're not a kid and you're _definitely_ not stupid. I just. You don't really know how to use the power tools, stinky pits. Not safely, not the right way. And I know you could figure it out or whatever, I do. But I'm really good at that kind of stuff, so why should you struggle and maybe hurt yourself when it's something I could just do? Or if that really bothers you or... or... or threatens your masculinity or whatever, then at least let me show you how to use 'em. It could be fun, like when you came and helped me clean up my last house. It could be something we do together, and then I wouldn't come home and be internally panicking when I saw you using tools that really, honestly have the potential to hurt you. I'm sorry for overreacting."

Steve had listened to his speech - really, truly listened the way most people didn't when Tony really got going - and when Tony finished he curled his large, cool hand around the nape of Tony's neck. "I wish you'd told me about how hard work has been," he started, maneuvering so they were pressed more fully together. The contact was reassuring for both of them, probably, and Tony couldn't help but melt against him. 

Even if he was still wet and cold. 

"If I'd known, I would have waited a bit on putting the swing up. I'm also pretty damned certain of my masculinity," he added in a drawl complete with dramatic eye roll. "So that's not what this was about. I... I know I'm not smart like you, but I'm not... I didn't like the idea that you might think I'm incompetent or stupid. And you didn't even--" he stopped himself, took a deep breath, then continued. "I've always wanted a porch swing. You didn't seem excited or like you even cared about it - you just started snapping at me. I didn't like it. But I shouldn't have yelled, and I _really_ shouldn't have thrown your drill. I'm sorry too."

Tony didn't even try to resist the urge to give his boyfriend a kiss. He caught Steve's mouth with his own, keeping things light and brief before breaking away and tucking his head under Steve's chin. "It's just a thing - I can replace it, and... and look. When I said it was mine--"

"You're allowed to have your own things, Tony."

"Yeah, but... but if you wanted to, you know, learn how to use all that stuff. We could get a set that belongs to both of us, and I could keep my shit in the workshop I will one day have. When we own our own house and I can add secret passageways and an underground lair that is actually a workshop - that's where I'll keep my power tools. The ones in the house will be ours, because I know you could do all that kind of stuff just as well as me if someone showed you how."

"And you'll do that? Show me how?"

"Of course, shnookums."

"Thanks."

"No problem. And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really excited about the porch swing. It's not like I ever had one either, but the movies make them look great. We could keep some blankets by the door for when we want to sit out there at night to look at the stars or for, you know, when it starts to get cold. You, me and some hot chocolate all cuddled up on the damn thing sounds kind of awesome. And now I have like, this image of coming home to you swinging in it, barefoot and in your sleep pants or some shit, reading a book. Oh my fucking God, we're that sappy couple who does cute things like imagine each other soft and barefoot. Jesus fuck, Steve, what have you done to me? I demand you take me to a club so we can writhe and basically have fully-clothed sex on the dance floor in front of other sweaty hordes."

"Or," Steve countered, a grin in his voice as his hands roamed over Tony's back again. "We could go inside and take a long, hot shower together where I can blow you in private. Then we could curl up on the couch with our dog while our cat judges us from on high and watch Star Trek. I'll even stay barefoot and only wear my sleep pants, if you want."

"... yeah. Okay. If you keep your hair all fluffy and messy it's a deal. Tomorrow we can set the porch swing up together."

"Sounds perfect. Love you."

"Love you too, even if you turned me into a romantic sap."

On the whole, being 'that couple' really wasn't so bad. Sure their friends would alternately coo and gag, and maybe they were basically settled down and married before either of them hit thirty (hell, Tony was just barely twenty-five), but that was fine. It was way better than getting drunk and having a string of one night stands. Being soft and domestic with Steve was actually pretty awesome. It was especially great on the nights when they were cuddled together under a pile of blankets on their perfectly installed porch swing with Chewbarka laying underneath it and Sinnabun in the window, cups of hot chocolate sending steam up into the night sky as they watched the stars.

Those times were pretty fucking fantastic, and they made all the stupid squabbles they got into worth it.

~.~.~

"I don't know if I can do this."

"You can."

"Maybe this was a bad idea. It was - it was a really bad idea. I'm not ready, my work isn't ready... I shouldn't have let you and Pepper talk me into this. God, what was I thinking? I'm not an artist, Tony, not really. I don't have any business doing a _showing_. I take commissions sometimes and post some of my crap online - that does not an artist make, and this was a terrible idea."

"Steve. Babe. Stinky pits.” The last endearment probably shouldn’t have been the one to make Steve grin, but he couldn’t deny that it had. Not when he watched it form in their full-length mirror - Tony, sitting behind him on their bed, had seen it too which meant he really couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. “First of all, you _are_ an artist. Don’t even try to fight me on that one,” he added quickly when Steve opened his mouth to protest “Repeat after me - I am an artist.”

“I… am an… Tony, I’m not--”

“No no no, you’re adding words, try again. I am an artist - come on, say it, you can do it.”

“... I am an artist,” it tasted like a lie, but Tony was beaming at him so Steve guessed it was worth it. He just didn’t feel like one, not when he hardly made any money doing it. Art was a hobby, something close to therapy - he wasn’t an artist.

“You don’t believe it yet, but that’s fine. You said it, that’s the important thing. Now let’s try this one - I deserve to have people appreciate my art.”

“Tony.”

“Steve.”

“This was a terrible idea,” he muttered to himself as he turned his attention back to his reflection. Steve had agonized for an hour over what to wear, and he knew that he probably looked okay. Dark wash jeans were maybe not _fancy_ -fancy, but they weren’t super casual either - they’d always worked when he had to spend time with Tony’s parents outside of formal events. The button-up he had on helped make him look professional, probably - though he needed to fix the collar and finish tying his tie. His boyfriend had assured him that he looked good enough to eat, but that wasn’t the point, and he should never have filled out the application Tony had brought home a few months ago.

It was just that he’d been all flushed and happy, with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. He’d been so excited about what it could mean for Steve, and Steve had been swept right up with him. So he’d filled it out, submitted it and some of his art, had an interview… and it had all been incredibly stupid of him. He wasn’t an artist, his work was sub-par, and he should have just said ‘no’, stopped the process before it was too late.

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, and Steve couldn’t help but jump - he hadn’t even heard Tony stand up. Clever, calloused fingers ran down his arms, and then Tony hooked his chin over Steve’s left shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said weakly.

“You need to calm down, baby,” Tony told him before putting his lips against the side of Steve’s neck. “Just take a deep breath for me, okay?” Steve felt the words more than he heard them, but that didn’t stop him from obeying. “Good.” Tony pulled back a little, then used his hands to encourage Steve to turn to face him.

“Tony, I’m--”

“I know,” his boyfriend soothed, reaching up and framing his face with his wonderful hands. Steve leaned into the touch, drinking up the comfort Tony was offering, doing his best to calm down and breathe. “I didn’t realize you were so nervous. How long have you been freaking out?”

“Since I found out my work was going to be part of the rotation,” he admitted, chewing on his lower lip. “You saw the other artists they showed, Tony. I shouldn’t even be--”

“You are an artist, and you are a very talented one at that,” Tony told him fiercely. “I know it’s not your ‘job’, but that doesn’t make those two things any less true. I’m sorry, if I pushed too hard,” he added, expression going softer. “I thought it would be something you would enjoy, be proud of - I didn’t want it to be something that sent you into a panic attack. Do you wanna stay in tonight?”

He meant that - Steve knew that he did. Tony would absolutely let him duck out of this even if there were people expecting them. He wasn’t going to try to guilt Steve into it, would never mention the planned party and the people he could meet and make connections with. If he said that he didn’t want to go, Tony would consider this issue closed.

“... no. We can go. I can… I can do this. If you stay with me.”

“Always.”

“I mean it, Tony, for the whole night.”

“Consider me your shadow, stinky pits.”

“And you’ll hold my hand?” he asked, hating that he felt like a child when he did. Tony’s expression went sweet though, and he leaned up to brush a kiss over Steve’s lips.

“I’d be honored,” he said on pulling back. “Now. If we’re going we need to leave in the next five minutes or so. Let’s finish getting you put together. Breath test has been completed and you are in the clear.” That made him laugh, and Steve was never so grateful to have Tony in his life as he was at that moment. “Lemme get your tie.”

It felt intimate in a way Steve couldn’t articulate whenever Tony did his tie for him or vice versa. Maybe it was because he’d seen his mother do it for his father, or because he couldn’t imagine letting anyone else do it. Maybe it was the way Tony always used the length of silk to reel him in for a few sweet, clinging kisses once he’d finished the knot. Whatever it was, Steve liked it, liked the way he could bring Tony in for a hug after those kisses and have his boyfriend tucked under his chin and nuzzling his neck. It always gave him a sense of calm that would last through whatever formal event was coming up that had forced him into a tie in the first place.

“Better?” Tony asked against his throat.

“Mm. Better.”

“Good!” On pulling back, Tony straightened his collar and brushed off his shoulders, then rolled his eyes and attacked Steve’s sleeves. “It’s the local library, babe, not the Met. Come on, live a little! Don’t be a stuffed shirt - be a hot hipster artist. Oh my God. Can we--”

“No, we cannot stop on the way to get glasses and poke the lenses out so I can wear them,” he answered fondly but firmly as Tony rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. “Are you sure I shouldn’t leave them down?” he asked, ignoring Tony’s muttered ‘spoilsport’. “I want to look professional.”

“Steve. Honey bun. You can look professional and still be smokin’, okay? Nobody is going to be clutching at their pearls because you dared to show off your forearms, even if they _are_ exceptionally sexy forearms that I adore. You look great, this is going to be fun, and I will hold your hand through the whole thing. Now let’s say goodbye to the kiddos and get this show on the road. If you decide on the way that you’ve changed your mind, we’ll go hit up a burger joint instead.”

“We just had dinner.”

“There’s always room for burgers, Steve.”

Most of his earlier panic and doubts had receded in the face of Tony’s support. They weren’t gone, and Steve was still pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well, but he was okay. He wasn’t imagining everyone hating his art and gathering his pieces together to burn, wasn’t sure that someone would come up to him, declare him an imposter and break his hands so he could never paint again. Steve wasn’t excited for the night to come, but he wasn’t predicting it would end in catastrophe - that right there was a solid win.

Sinnabun spurned their goodbye, walking away with her tail held high - it was an act though. Steve knew as soon as he came through the door later she’d be on him, purring up a storm and kneading his shoulders until he bled for the privilege of loving her. Chewbarka was more than happy to accept ear scratches and declarations of eternal love, panting happily and basking in their attention. He was less happy when Tony put him into his cage, but he was a good dog. After a single bark he found one of his toys and began to chew, sinking into a relaxed puddle of fur and doggy breath. 

Steve ignored the way Tony bitched about the way they didn’t yet own an iguana - it was a familiar complaint that Tony didn’t really mean anymore. They’d looked into owning one, and if Tony really, really wanted an iguana Steve would suck it up and figure it out… but Tony seemed happier to rant about not owning one, really. In the back of his mind, Steve was pretty damned happy about that - he sort of wanted kids next, not another pet.

After they got married, maybe. Which would happen as soon as one of them proposed. Steve wasn’t too worried about it - they’d been together almost three years, and while he’d love to marry Tony there wasn’t any pressure for either of them to put a ring on it. They loved each other, were deeply committed to each other, and that was all they needed. They’d talked about the possibility, but by the time they were there it seemed like all their close friends were already engaged and planning weddings. It hadn’t been hard or disappointing to agree to wait until the ‘wedding fever’ had calmed down so their big day could be front and center.

Steve didn’t need a ring or a ceremony to know that Tony was in his corner, absolutely and without question. They could wait a little while longer.

The ride to the library was full of Tony’s chatter. Steve didn’t talk much, just sank down into the rise and fall of his boyfriend’s voice and let it carry him away. Tony let him do it, telling stories about his ‘minions’ and Pepper that had Steve relaxing and giving the occasional laugh. It was the perfect way to relax and center himself before he had to go meet a whole bunch of new people and make nice with them while they judged his work.

Tony would be with him the whole night and he would be okay. And if he even hinted that he wanted to get the hell out of there, his boyfriend would be only too happy to kidnap him and flee into the night

This didn’t have to be bad idea.

An hour later while he was talking with another local artist, Steve even thought it might have been a good one. The event was so low-key that he was actually enjoying himself, the finger foods were delicious but homey, and it was unexpectedly nice to see some of his paintings and drawings being shown off in the familiar space. He’d been a fan of the ‘Local Works’ initiative since it started, and being part of it was… fulfilling. Now that he knew what these opening parties were like, he promised himself that he’d keep coming to show support for his peers. He was even starting to look forward to the other little appearances he’d have to put in over the next few months until they took his stuff down and featured another artist.

Tony had stayed with him the whole night, just like he’d asked. Even once he’d calmed down and started to have a good time, Steve kept their fingers tangled together. He liked the way Tony blushed but kept talking when he would bring their linked hands up and press a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s hand. He liked the way people would look down at their joined hands and smile. He loved the way it would tell people that they were together.

They got a few unhappy or judging looks, of course - it was an imperfect world, and some people would never approve of two men being together. Steve didn’t give a single flying fuck, of course, and just smiled blandly. Tony took the looks as a personal affront and would lift up onto his toes and press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips every time he noticed anyone sporting one.

Steve didn’t mind.

Much later, when they were home with their shoes and ties off, Chewbarka had been walked and Sinnabun cuddled to her heart’s content, Steve looked down at Tony and couldn’t help but smile. His boyfriend was stretched out on the couch with his head pillowed in Steve’s lap, playing with one of Steve’s hands absently. “Hey Tony?” he asked, running his free hand through Tony’s hair. “Thanks.”

“For what, sexy butt?”

“For bringing me that application and getting me to fill it out. For putting up with me while I spazzed about which pieces to submit, and for talking me off every stress-cliff, for telling me I didn’t have to go tonight, for holding my hand. For believing in me. For loving me.” Steve shrugged, hoping the soft smile he could feel on his lips conveyed as much love for Tony as he felt. His boyfriend’s mouth had fallen open and he maybe looked a little teary, but that was alright. Emotion wasn’t a bad. “Lots of stuff, really,” he continued, fingers still playing with silky-soft strands. “Thanks.”

“You… you don’t have to thank me for any of that, you know,” he said, drumming his fingers against Steve’s palm. “‘Specially not for loving you. I mean, I get it - I know I thank any God that might be up there for the fact that you love me, but…” Tony shook his head, then tugged Steve hand up to press a kiss to the center of his palm; Steve felt warmth spread through his limb radiating from that spot of contact. “You’re welcome. Thank you for all the stuff you do for me. Love you, you dork.”

“Love you too, sap.”

“Ohohoh, oh no. I am _not_ the sappy one in this relationship, Rogers. I am an emotional brick, okay? A wall. A fortress. _You_ are the sappy, cheesy one.”

“Sure Tony.”

“Ugh. Shut up. Hey.”

“What’s up?” In the background he could hear Chewbarka crunching away as he ate, and Sinnabun was draped over the back of the couch behind his head, purring. It hit him, again, how much he had and how lucky he was to have it. When he was little and pictured his perfect grown-up life, it had looked a hell of a lot like this.

“You should marry me,” Tony answered simply, now toying with his ring finger. Steve felt his heartbeat instantly ratchet up to an almost worrying speed, whole world narrowing in until it was just him and Tony. Maybe hearing the way his breath had hitched, Tony raced ahead to fill the silence with words. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, that’s all. You don’t have to, I mean, we’re good like this. I’m happy, and if you’re not ready to do that it’s totally fine. I won’t be like… hurt or anything. Well I would, but I’d get over it because I know you love me and I know that even if we never have a ceremony that we’re going to be together forever, so it’d be fine. We don’t even have to be married to have kids, you know? Might make the process a little easier, but I know we could get through it either way and either way we’d be kick-ass parents and I know we both want kids and even if the impossible happened and we did break up I know that we’d figure out a way to work out something with the kids that would be fair for everyone. So yeah. I have a ring, upstairs. I’m too comfy to go get it right now and I don’t have it on me because I wasn’t really planning to propose yet, you know? But I do have one and I would like to be married to you and could you maybe stop me from talking and say something because I am maybe freaking out a lot right now, and I--”

“Tony?” Steve twisted his hand enough that he could wrap his fingers around Tony’s and give a strong squeeze. He slid his other hand down to rest it on Tony’s cheek, thumb tracing his plush lips and Tony swallowed audibly.

“Yeah?”

“I’d be so honored to marry you, baby,” he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. Steve could feel tears pricking at his eyes as he gazed down at Tony but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m already the luckiest guy on the planet - getting to say I was married to you would put it all right over the top.”

“So… yes?”

“Yes.” “Yes.” Tony looked a little shocked, like he’d expected Steve to refuse. His boyfri… his _fiance’s_ self-esteem issues always managed to break Steve’s heart a little. “You’re really… you’re saying yes. To me.” Steve just nodded, giving his fingers another squeeze. “Wow. Holy fuck. That’s… that’s fucking amazing. We’re getting married!”

Steve couldn’t help but start to laugh as he leaned down, meeting Tony halfway for a sweet, bone-melting kiss that seemed to last forever. Part of him thought they’d be heading upstairs to get the ring and have a really nice bout of sex; most of him wasn’t all that surprised when Tony just settled happily back into his lap instead.

“Can’t wait to tell Rhodey and Pep that I tricked you into marrying me. Oh! Shhhh, this is my favorite part,” he ordered, flapping one hand in front of Steve’s face. He didn’t try to keep from rolling his eyes - it was ‘Kitchen Nightmares’, which meant every time Gordon Ramsay was on screen it was Tony’s ‘favorite part’. He ignored the request for quiet and snagged hold of Tony’s hand, keeping both on lockdown.

“You didn’t trick me into it, Tony. I love you, remember? We’ve been together forever - of course I want to marry you. Maybe on Saturday we can have a little get together with all our friends and their spouses--”

“Not Wanda.”

“Yes Wanda. I know you don’t like her and that she’s a bit of a bitch, but she’s good for Sam and he loves her so we’re going to pretend to do the same.”

“Fiiiiine.”

“Thank you. We’ll have everyone over and tell them, what do you think?”

“Can we pretend I did the proposing thing better than I did?”

“You did the proposing thing fine, Tony. I said yes, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did. … can we still make it sound all romantic and shit?”

“Sure, my emotional brick-slash-wall-slash-fortress,” Steve teased, loving the way Tony stuck his tongue out in response.

“Whatever. Shut up and let me watch my show.”

“Okay Tony.”

“Love you.”

“Love you t--”

“Shhhh, my TV husband is about to blow and it’s going to be amazing.”

Steve obeyed orders this time, settling in to watch the stupid show that they both liked way too much. Two hours later, Sinnabun had stopped purring and started snoring. Tony was also asleep, drooling against Steve’s thigh, and Chewbarka was looking pretty droopy eyed from where he was lying between Tony’s legs. It was going to mean a sore back and a crick in his neck, but Steve chose not to wake everyone up just to head up to bed. Instead he snagged the remote and turned to a news channel before lowering the volume to a murmur.

Maybe it wasn’t sex with his new engagement ring on his finger, but it was still a damn good end to a really great day.

~.~.~

People always talked about that white light nonsense, or seeing your life flash before your eyes before you died. Tony was pretty sure all those people were fucking bullshitters though, because he was dying and he couldn’t see anything but his ceiling. Oh, and the spider that was living in one corner because he couldn’t reach it without climbing on something and Steve kept telling him to ‘just leave it alone, Tony, it’s fine and eating other bugs’ which was gross and creepy, but whatever. Steve didn’t like to kill spiders and it was too cold and snowy to just throw the fucker outside, so they had a spider houseguest.

At least he would have a witness to his demise.

Chewbarka had abandoned him, because sneezes freaked the dog out a little. The last time Tony had gone a sneezing spree, getting almost twenty out before he was finally allowed to breathe again, Chewbarka had turned tail and fled to the safety and comfort of the kitchen. Sinnabun, the little asshole, would saunter by the door every once in awhile, peeking in with her judgey eyes and unimpressed whisker twitches before ambling off again. It wasn’t fair - Tony wanted some cuddles before he died, and no one would give them to him.

“Steve,” he tried, the word garbled and unrecognizable by the time it got past the ball of phlegm in his throat. The sound probably hadn’t even reached the doorway, let alone the kitchen where his fiance was supposed to be making him some soup.

It was a shame that Steve would be widowed before they could even get married. At least he was already in the will even if Howard would be the one to collect the life insurance money.

He loved his fiance, he really did, but the bastard had refused to give him a bell to ring. Something about Tony ‘abusing the privilege last time’ which sounded fake but Tony would give it to him. Mostly because he had no choice - it wasn’t like he could drag his already decaying body out of bed to get a bell himself.

Still, he was nothing if not ingenious, so Tony did a little improvising in the hopes of summoning the man who refused to take this situation as seriously as he should be. “Steeeeve,” he tried again, louder this time as he inched towards the edge of the bed. His only ‘success’ came in the form of a hacking, painful cough that was probably like, spewing things on the covers. It was no wonder nobody wanted to cuddle, but dammit he was dying so they needed to get over it and get in the damned bed with him.

It took him a while, but eventually he made his way to the edge of Steve’s side of the bed, where he could grab hold of the hardcover book on the end table. With the last of his strength, he began to bang it against the wood, hoping against hope that Steve would make it in time for Tony to say one final ‘I love you’.

Steve did arrive in the doorway pretty quickly, mouth drawn in a tight line and an unimpressed look on his face. He looked like their goddamned cat, all judgey and shit. “Steeeb,” he said, realizing once the sound made it out that his nose was definitely all plugged up again. “Steeb. I’mb dying.”

“You have a cold.”

“No! Amb dying,” he argued as he groped for a tissue. The pile he found held his used ones, but it was fine. He still grabbed one and blew his nose while Steve - heartless man that he was - rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t dying - you have a cold. A bad one, sure, but it’s still just a cold. Your soup is almost done, alright?” he added, trying to soften his tone. Tony was onto him though; Tony knew Steve didn’t even care that he was about to breathe his last. “Do you want some more juice while you wait?”

“You’re gonna feel real dumb when you come to feed me and I’m dead,” Tony muttered after giving a final blow into his tissue. Thank fuck it was enough to make his voice clearer. It was also enough to turn Steve’s expression exasperated again, because he was a mean, mean fiance.

“If you’re dying then I’m taking you to the doctor.”

“Noooooo.”

“You don’t want to go to the doctor?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not dying.”

“Yes I am. I feel terrible and I’m so gross right now. So many fluids, Steve. So many. Sinnabun is watching me, hoping I’ll die soon so she can consume my spirit and Chewbarka hates me now that I sneeze, and… and you don’t believe I’m dying and the only one who cares is that fucking spider that you refuse to kill.” If Steve had a heart, that would have been enough to make him care. If he’d ever really loved Tony at all, that speech would have set him to weeping and begging for Tony’s forgiveness.

“You let me take you to the doctor and if she says you’re dying then I’ll believe you and you can have all the sympathy and pampering you need. Hell, if you take some medicine,” he continued, ignoring the way Tony keened because he was a meanie face. “I’ll be way more willing to fetch and carry and fuss. Until then? Very little sympathy. Love you doll, but you’re being a really dramatic pain in my ass.”

“Wow. Just… wow. I’m calling Pepper and telling her to take you out of the will.” Steve only rolled his eyes again and left the room. Alone, Tony settled in to have a good sulk. He was dying, he _was_.

When Steve came back ten minutes later with a bowl of steaming soup, Tony decided dying could wait until after he’d gotten something to eat. He didn’t want to greet Hades or St. Peter or whoever with a rumbly stomach, after all. His fiance helped him sit upright, supported by a crap-ton of pillows, then sat on the edge of the bed, holding the soup in his lap. He didn’t try to feed Tony, which he appreciated, but he stayed while Tony ate half the bowl with shaky hands.

It was good - really good, actually. Steve was a great cook, and the hearty soup had warmth spreading through his limbs even as it filled the empty, gnawing hole in his stomach. Tony was pretty sure it had also opened his sinuses a bit - turned him leaky, but he thought he remembered hearing somewhere that it was better to get all the mucus out. Steve, the wonderful and thoughtful gem that he was, found an unused packet of tissues that he could use to mop himself up. The heat of the soup soothed his throat, and he was kinda sad that he couldn’t finish it all.

“There’s more for later,” Steve told him quietly as he set the bowl aside. He reached out to caress Tony’s face, then pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Tony leaned into the touch, feeling less like dying and more like taking a nap.

Steve _may_ have had a point about him being dramatic and only having a cold.

Maybe.

“Thanks babe. Gonna sleep.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Steve murmured, helping him get horizontal again. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Nooooo. I want you to stay. Stay and give me cuddles,” he demanded, making grabby hands. Well, one grabby hand, because the other was busy pushing his pile of used tissues off the bed. “I know I’m gross, but I don’t feel good even if I’m not dying and I want to snuggle with you.”

“Shhh… I know you don’t feel good. ‘Course I’ll stay.” Sure enough, Steve climbed into bed with him and even got under the covers. He didn’t say a thing about how gross and sweaty and leaky Tony was, nor did he shy away when Tony grabbed onto him and cuddled close. He was all soothing words, cool skin and caressing hands - everyone should have a Steve when they were sick. Not when they were dying - he’d been awful when Tony was dying - but yeah. Steve was great now that he was just sick.

He let Tony pull the fluffy comforter tight around them both and seemed happy to pet his hair while Tony settled himself. His nose was cold, so the only part of him above the covers was his forehead - it was a little suffocatey, but he also kinda liked it. Steve wouldn’t let him suffocate all the way, he was sure.

Steve was the best. Steve should have a holiday and a parade…

“I’d just be happy to have you well again,” Steve murmured, which made Tony realize he’d been mumbling out loud.

“Nnn. Love you,” he croaked from under the covers. Tony was asleep before Steve could return the sentiment, but it was fine. Steve’d put up with him while he was dying and made him yummy soup and even snuggled despite Tony being the grossest thing to exist. Steve totally loved him, even if he wouldn’t kill that damned voyeuristic spider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) that's pretty ridiculous. You can come say hi if you wanna, or toss me a prompt or whatevs. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept to this schedule like a _boss_. XD
> 
> This fic was so much fun to write, and thanks again to the Stony Trumps Hate auction winner for letting me write it! <3
> 
> Thanks also to you all for reading it. <3

The water streaking down the glass of their bay window was soothing to watch - almost as soothing as the sound of the rain as it fell. Steve had always enjoyed stormy weather, ever since he was a kid. He'd been using them as an excuse to pull on comfy clothes, make a huge mug of hot cocoa and cocoon himself in blankets for years. Sam shared his feelings, which had been great during college. They would take turns making up batches of the sugary drink and have a nice, quiet day in. Bucky thought they were both idiots, because for him rain had always meant being cooped up inside with his younger sisters, no escape in sight. Most of Steve's previous partners had fallen more on Bucky's end of the spectrum.

Not Tony though, which was just another little piece of proof that they were meant to be together.

Even though his husband-to-be (in two weeks, God it couldn't get there fast enough) preferred coffee to hot cocoa during the day, they made it work. Hot milk could be used by both of them, and Tony would make his coffee a mocha while Steve would add just a hint of coffee to his drink - it was a nice, tasty compromise that meant they could steal sips from each other's mugs without being horribly disappointed. That was what Steve was doing just then, having finished his own drink and not ready to get up to make more yet. Tony had whined in protest but relinquished the mug, half dozing as he stared out the window.

On the coffee table in front of them was a pile of RSVPs, three different attempts at a seating chart, a few different kennels to visit before deciding where to send Chewbarka during their honeymoon and a whole bunch of wedding magazines that Tony had picked up to make fun of. 

The seating chart was pretty much the only thing they were allowed to be in charge of; Pepper and Sam had joined forces and taken over everything else while Bucky and Rhodey made 'helpful' suggestions from a safe distance. Some of their other friends (Darcy and Clint mostly, Bruce very tentatively) had suggested they wrestle back the reins, but Steve wasn't really interested. He'd made sure Sam and Pepper knew the few things he felt strongly about, Tony'd done the same and they were both of the opinion that at long as they were married at the end of it they were happy.

Maria had been less than thrilled at being relegated to a supporting role, but that was where she'd been casting Tony for years. Steve was less than sympathetic to her ‘plight’ and mostly just glad Howard was staying the fuck out of it all.

They'd been able to focus on wedding things for about half an hour before they'd succumbed to the drowsy, comfortable vibe of the day. That had been when they swapped out their two smaller blankets for the huge one Steve had bought on a whim. It was big enough to wrap around the both of them comfortably several times, even with Chewbarka curled up on one end of the couch on top of a pretty good sized section of it. They were both laying on the couch with Tony sitting between his legs and leaning back against him - Steve still couldn't get over how his fiance was the _perfect_ size to tuck his head under Steve's chin like it belonged there. Every once in awhile Tony would run a lazy hand up Steve's arm and he would answer by gently running his nails over Tony's stomach, enjoying the way his guy pretty much purred in response.

His fiance was pretty much a cat, they'd all decided while out drinking one night. Maybe that was why he and Sinnabun had such a love-hate relationship; they were too much alike. Their friend group had then announced that Steve was a golden retriever ‘stuck in a people body'. It shouldn't work between the two of them, a very drunk Clint and Bucky had insisted. It shouldn't, because Steve was a dog and Tony was a cat, but Steve and Tony _did_ work and they demanded that the two of them share their secret with the world to bring about a new era of peace.

Steve didn't really know about all that. He just knew that he liked the happy noises Tony made when he got his 'skritchies'.

He drained the last of the mocha coffee and set the mug aside before nosing Tony's temple with a happy sigh. "Love you."

"Love you too," Tony mumbled as he half-turned, pressing his face against the curve of Steve's neck. "Not gettin' up. 'S your turn."

Steve chuckled but didn't bother arguing his motivation - wasn't worth it. Bickering (even fondly) would ruin the mood of the day, and he'd do just about anything to keep the little bubble they were living in just then from popping. "My turn," he agreed instead, rolling both of them over with ease. Tony was like a rag doll when they were cuddling like this, happy to let Steve manipulate his limbs as long as they stayed tangled up together. They ended up with Steve's back against the back of the couch, arms locked around Tony to keep him from sliding off onto the floor. 

Moving had disturbed the dog, who began to huff in agitation - he had to stand up, paw at the blanket, turn in a few circles... it was a production, one that Chewbarka grumbled about during the duration. Their growing dog ended up draped over their legs this time, head shoving its way under one of Steve's arms. Sinnabun was, in turn, disturbed from her nap along the back of the couch by the way everyone had shifted. One paw made its way onto Steve’s shoulder and flexed in warning, claws digging lightly into his skin. There it stayed even when the cat had settled again, purring softly.

Her purrs mingled with the rain, Chewbarka's snoring and the occasional sleepy mutter from Tony. He was fighting the urge to fall asleep himself, knowing that it wouldn't end well if he did. Either his hold would go slack and he'd dump his fiance onto the floor or they'd all end up so tangled with each other and the blanket that getting free would be a fight. Once one of their rainy day cuddle sessions had been interrupted by the doorbell ringing and it had not been pretty. Tony had ended up shouting 'come in, please!' and their poor mailman had been commandeered to assist them in their bid for freedom.

It wasn't going to work, Steve knew that much. As soon as he felt Tony go completely slack and heard the way his fiance's breath had gone deep and even, he knew that the fight was over. It was only a matter of time before he nodded off too, and he'd deal with the consequences when they came. They'd be worth it for these quiet moments where all that was important was the sound of the rain and the comfort of feeling his family surrounding him.

~.~.~

Tony never cried at weddings.

Mostly because in his - admittedly limited - experience, they just didn't mean all that much. Sure his parents were still married after way too many years together, but they were also miserable. Over half of his business associates had been married at least three times, changing partners with the seasons. His friends who were married seemed pretty happy, but those relationships were also still pretty young. Give it a decade or two and he was sure at least one divorce would rock their group.

Selfishly, he hoped it was Sam and Wanda - Wanda was terrible and Sam was great, so Tony would love to keep him and send her packing. However he looked at it though, the _only_ couple he knew that were still happily married and in love after any meaningful length of time was Jarvis and his Anna.

So yeah, while other people cried and said how beautiful everything was, Tony was usually rolling his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. They'd never really hit him all that hard - he'd gotten the closest when Rhodey had tied the knot though, and if Pep ever got married he might shed a tear or two, but that was it. He'd been of the opinion that they were kind of a dumb and unnecessary expense.

Then he caught sight of Steve across the room during their own ceremony and Tony suddenly got it.

Not the expense or a lot of the sillier parts of it, but the crying thing. That whole 'most important day of my life' bit made sense. The idea of two people coming together and promising forever didn't feel doomed to fail; it felt momentous. It felt _real_.

Tony felt tears spring to his eyes as it hit him, _really_ hit him, that he and Steve were getting married. That was his almost-husband waiting for him at the end of the aisle, looking suspiciously bright eyed himself. In just a few minutes they'd be saying 'I do' in front of their friends and family, they'd exchange vows and rings and be together _forever_. His steps faltered a little, not because he was hesitant but because he was feeling so damn much. Steve saw and, because he knew Tony inside out, shot a blinding grin his way. On his left, Rhodey gave his arm a squeeze; Pepper, who was on his right, pressed a tissue into his hand.

And really, having both of them there to support him in his walk down the aisle and give him away was just another reason to love Steve. His almost-husband had, at first, been keen on them doing something like walking down the aisle together. But when Tony expressed that he really, _really_ wanted to get under Howard's skin by 'playing the role of the woman', whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, Steve had been just fine waiting at the altar and letting Tony have his special moment. It had been Steve who suggested not letting Howard be the one to give him away, and when Tony had waffled over choosing one of his two best friends to do it instead (after Jarvis had said a firm, fond 'no'), Steve had shrugged and said 'both of 'em'.

Steve was _amazing_ and so understanding, and he was going to be Tony's _husband_.

Conscious as ever of his audience, Tony made a show of dabbing his eyes - it was enough to make a lot of their guests start to laugh. Sure it was a wet one, but it was a touching moment and this was forever, so tears were definitely okay. Hell, if any of them weren't crying he was disowning their asses. About halfway down the aisle, his gaze locked on Steve's eyes and held there for the rest of the way, an intensity building between them that Tony felt in every part of his body.

He was supposed to wait, he knew that, but Tony couldn't help himself. As soon as he and his escorts were close enough, he slipped out of their hold and jumped at Steve... who was ready and waiting to catch him. Another laugh echoed in the room as Tony wrapped his legs around Steve's waist while Steve's arms held him securely. Tony then used his hands to draw Steve into a long, sweet kiss, the rest of the room falling away. Dimly, he thought he heard Rhodey making a joke, and that was probably Pepper pulling on his tux sleeve, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was Steve, and the way Steve was holding him, and Steve's lips under his.

When they finally pulled apart, Tony knew he was probably smiling too big and too bright, but Steve was right there with him. "Hey," he whispered, putting their foreheads together.

"Hey doll," Steve answered, speaking just as quietly, as privately as Tony had. "Pep and Sam are gonna murder you for this."

"Couldn't help it. Guess what?"

"What?"

"We're getting married."

"Yeah," Steve said, smile getting impossibly bigger. "We are. How 'bout that."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

They shared another quick kiss before Steve set him down, seeming just as reluctant to do it as Tony was to step away. "Sorry!" Tony called to the room, knowing he didn't sound like it and not caring even a little. "Got excited. On with the wedding so I can take this wonderful man on our honeymoon!" More laughter and tears - even Maria was dabbing at her eyes, and Howard was purple-faced with outrage. 

It was a perfect day. 

Where Rhodey was laughing along with everyone else, Pepper was giving him just a bit of a stink eye... but there were also some tears threatening, and she willingly accepted a kiss to the cheek before taking his arm again, so Tony was pretty sure she'd already forgiven him. Rhodey took his other arm, Steve stepped back, and they proceeded as originally planned.

His two besties relinquished him to Steve with kisses to the cheek and admonishments to 'behave', which was probably the only thing that kept him from jumping on his almost-husband again when they passed him over. Things sort of blurred after that, because he was lost in Steve's blue, blue eyes. He was pretty sure he was still kind of crying, and he watched a few tears streak down Steve's cheeks as well, because this was so real, and it was happening and it was _forever_.

Suddenly he felt someone flick his ear, and he flinched back to glare at Pepper who did not look at all amused. She nodded toward the pastor, who Tony realized had been trying to get his attention. "Oh. Oops? Vow-time?" The man nodded, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. "Right! Vows. The ones I wrote, which are probably terrible and inappropriate . Okay." Tony took a deep breath, then turned back to Steve. "Okay. So before I met you I'd never really had a boyfriend. I mean, I'd had a lot of sex with men and women, but there hadn't been a lot of, you know, feelings involved. Before you there weren't many feelings at all. I mean, I had Rhodey and Pep, Jarvis and Anna, my, uh, parents, but that was sort of it. Everyone else was just a distraction, and an irritating one at that. Because people kind of suck - like, a lot, and most of them not even the fun kind. I've seen a lot of terrible people, and been kind of an awful one myself, but you're just... you're like, amazing. You're Steve. In what universe does someone like you end up marrying an asshole like me? I mean, this one obviously, but that's not--"

God, he was fucking this up and Steve was going to realize that he didn't want to marry Tony after all. This was a nightmare, a disaster - he should never have asked Steve to marry him, because he was _fucking this up_. Before he could let himself fall too far down that rabbit hole, Steve leaned forward and gave him another quick kiss that had people 'awww'ing like crazy.

Sure, when Steve did it, it was cute.

"Okay. Sorry. Um. Look, the point is that people are jerks but you aren't. You're... you're Steve, which means... it kind of means everything. And me, you and our fur-babies would have lived a long and happy life together even without this, but I promise that I'll make being married to me worth it. The tax break and life insurance incentives alone are unreal, you know? So I'll be faithful, because honestly nobody in their right mind would look elsewhere for sex - you are so good at the sex, babe, I can't even tell you, and we are fucking magic together, like, to the point where we could totally make a sex tape and it would be awesome, but let's not because I don't want other people seeing you like that. Where was I? Oh! Okay. So yeah. I'm already going to love you forever, but now I'll do it with a ring on my finger which makes me the happiest man ever. Steve, babe, stinky pits, he of the deadly ninja farts, honey-crunch, love of my life - I promise to come home to you, fight with you, make love to you, have babies with you - adopt them with you, whatever - and do all those stupid, cutesy, fantastic couple things with you until I die. After too if I can manage it. Kay?"

"Kay," Steve answered, a wobbly smile on his lips and tears standing bright in his brilliant eyes. "Sounds perfect."

"So... can we be declared married and get to the kissing now?"

"If you don't wanna hear the vows I wrote, then sure, we ca--"

"No! Lay 'em on me, stinky pits. I wanna cry too," he murmured, reaching up to wipe away a tear as it started to fall down Steve's cheek. Steve laughed and bent down to steal yet another kiss, and Tony was pretty sure they were doing this wedding thing all wrong. 

"You are the most beautiful, fiery, infuriating man I've ever met," Steve started, searching his eyes. "I will never forget how proud you were that you had no idea how to shop for groceries, and I'll never stop being amazed that I got to be your first real boyfriend." Tony's cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling, his heart was a fluttery mess, and he was half-sure this was just an amazing dream. "I want to make up for all those years where it was only about sex or what people could take from you; I want to give you all the love that you never had in your life." 

Tony felt the weight of those words settle over him like a warm, fluffy blanket as hot tears pricked his eyes. "I'd get an iguana for you, if I thought you really wanted one," he added, making Tony give a rather unattractive combination of a laugh, snort and sob. "I want kids with you, I want to fight with you over how goddamned cold you keep the house for the rest of our lives, and I want to bring you donuts and coffee when you've been having a shit day at work. I want to wake up beside you every morning and go to bed with you every night," and yeah, Tony was totally a goner, crying like a baby because God, Steve loved him _so much_ and Tony loved him back and they were almost _married_. "Gonna love you forever, doll, and being married to you is going to be the best part of my life."

"Fuck you for writing better vows than me," Tony said even as he surged forward to wrap his arms around Steve in a tight hug.

"They weren't better, you idiot," Steve whispered in his ear, hugging him back just as hard.

"Were. You owe me a blowjob for that."

"Whatever you want, Tony."

"Are we married yet? Because I'd like to get to the kissing, then skip the party and get right to the honeymoon where you will owe me a blowjob at a place and time of my choosing. How do you feel about semi-public sex?"

"Oh my God."

Tony had kind of half-forgotten that there were other people in the room; he didn't fully remember until the pastor cleared his throat. He was being a teensy bit inappropriate in front of company, he realized. The lady recording the ceremony had probably caught all of it, so at least it would be immortalized on film - bright side to everything. When they were finally, _finally_ declared husband and husband, Tony let out a whoop of joy, ready to get to the (fully sanctioned) kissing bits. But it was Steve who pulled him back in for a hard, passionate kiss that had catcalls and wolf-whistles joining in with the applause.

When the kiss ended, Tony was married. He was married to _Steve_ , who he loved and who loved him. He was Tony Stark-Rogers, or maybe it was Rogers-Stark - they still hadn't really come to a complete agreement on which one they were going to use. There was a heavy gold ring on his left ring finger and a matching one on Steve's; engraved on the insides (in binary code, because Steve encouraged his geekiness like any good husband should) was 'Pinky Promise'.

'It all started with that,' Tony had told Steve while they were designing them; it was only the truth. If it hadn't been for that first pinky promise and the phone call that prompted it, Tony didn't think their relationship would have lasted more than a date or two. After Steve's calm, sweet response to his freak-out, Tony had been smitten. It had set the tone for everything that followed; without their pinky promise, they might not have made it to marriage.

Pinky promises were fucking magical, in his opinion. Since their first one had carried their relationship through three and a half years, Tony hadn't been able to think of anything better to mark the start of their married life.

They were _married_.

Tony was sure he'd cry at every wedding he went to for the rest of his life.

~.~.~

There was no reason to be nervous, Steve told himself as he yanked off his t-shirt and pulled on a button-up instead. Yeah it was an important day - a crazy-important day, as Tony had said before kissing him goodbye that morning - but it was going to be fine. He was good with kids and so was Tony, and this meeting wasn't about being perfectly put together; it was about seeing if they clicked with the teen their worker thought would be a good match. If they weren't, it would be fine, he assured himself, changing into a pair of jeans because his slacks looked too formal with the button-up. This was only the first time they were actually meeting a kid that might become theirs, and Kelly had told them that sometimes it took four or five before a good match could be found.

God, he didn't think he could survive more than one meeting where he fell in love with a kid and didn't end up getting any further in the process than that.

Socks and shoes were easy enough to pick out, but he changed his shirt twice more before settling on a soft grey-blue henley. Tony was going to be showing up in a suit, since he would be coming straight from work to the group home. He figured at least one of them should look like a more regular, average-Joe so they didn't scare the kid. Not wanting to change anymore - this wasn't about looking perfect - he shut the bedroom door and headed for the kitchen.

He was ready early, too early, but then he always was. Steve wandered the house for a while, giving a bit of attention to Chewbarka and a few passing strokes to Sinnabun's fur. Finally he settled in the kitchen and forced himself to eat a snack; as he did, he went over the information provided by the agency. Peter Parker wasn't exactly what he and Tony had been looking for - he was a lot older, for one thing, being closer to fifteen than five. His parents had died in an accident almost a year ago and he still hadn't been able to find a long-term placement that worked for him. Peter was smart - smart enough to have landed a significant scholarship to a pretty pricey private school, which seemed to have caused some of his previous families to balk. 

It looked like a lot of his interests would line right up with Tony's, and Steve was sure he could find a way to bond with the kid too. And maybe he'd sort of been looking forward to a younger kid... but they could do that later. Darcy had offered several times to be a surrogate, so maybe when it came to adoption it was better to go with a kid that they could help. If Peter liked them, they could give the kid a good home, all the support he could need, and open doors that no one else could open for him. They could make sure Peter didn't get stuck in the system until he aged out of it, and Tony would be thrilled to have another science buff in the family.

Steve left earlier than he needed to and ended up waiting in the car for almost twenty minutes, getting more and more tightly wound as every second ticked by. He could be about to meet his son, and he didn't know how the hell he was supposed to stay calm or remember to breathe or anything like that. Honestly he was just hoping he could hang onto his name and Peter's long enough not to embarrass himself in front of the kid and Kelly.

Lost in a sea of 'what if's and nerves, Steve jumped when he heard a knock on the car window right next to his ear. It was Tony, of course, looking at him with a pair of sunglasses sliding down his nose and one of his brows arched in a question. "I'm fine," he said as he got out of the car, pretty sure his cheeks were pink. "Waiting for you--"

"And freaking out. Don't freak out, okay?" When the car door was shut, Steve stepped into his husband's space and hugged him, pressing his lips to Tony's temple. Tony immediately wrapped his arms around Steve's waist in return, which helped him let go of some of the tension that had been tightly coiling inside of him. "It's gonna be fine, no matter what happens. If we don't mesh with Peter, we'll wait for another meeting, or we can see if Darcy's still interested in carrying our spawn. I want this to work as much as you do, but if it doesn't, it isn't the end of the world."

"... yeah," he said against Tony's skin, willing himself to believe the words. "It'll be fine. Even if this doesn't work out today, we have tomorrow."

"And a shit-ton of days after that. Like, sooooo many days stinky pits. Until we die, which is going to be years and years and years from now. And you gotta figure that a year is three hundred and sixty five days, so if we get ten more years that's over _three thousand_ days." Steve smiled and let his husband talk out his nerves as they headed inside, hand in hand. "And at that point I'll hardly be forty, even if you'll be starting to edge into silver fox territory. You're gonna be so sexy when you get old, babe - I kinda can't wait, you know?"

Tony stopped talking about how sexy Steve was after ringing the doorbell, thank God. Instead he babbled about how lovely Kelly looked that day and what a quaint home it was, and where should he donate money to help kids in the same situation as Peter, and so much more that it was a wonder he crammed it all into the short walk to the small room where they'd be meeting the kid who might end up becoming their son.

He kept right on talking when Kelly left them to go get Peter, and Steve had never been more thankful for the way his husband could hold a conversation all by himself. He could listen and let the words wash over him, let the rise and fall of Tony's talking ease his nerves. Tony seemed to appreciate the way Steve was playing with the fingers of his left hand the same way; it was nice to know that they could still ground each other even after eight years together.

"Tony, Steve?" Steve was sure they both looked up at the same time, and he was so happy to be doing this that he didn't even have to force a warm smile to his face. "I'd like you to meet Peter Parker. Peter, this is Tony and Steve Stark-Rogers." The teen was standing partly behind their worker, shoulders hunched and a defensive scowl on his face. 

He needed to eat more, Steve decided as Kelly patiently ushered Peter further into the room, already itching to sit him down and feed him something healthy and filling. At least he seemed to be more interested in hygiene than some other fifteen year old boys he'd met, and his clothes were old and worn but obviously well cared for. In one hand he was clutching a science textbook, which ran the risk of getting Tony started on the deplorable state of science education in their country.

"Hey," Peter said, obviously wary. He lifted his head to take in the both of them, eyes lingering a little longer on Tony before he set his jaw and dropped his eyes back to the table.

"Hey," Steve and Tony echoed in a ragged chorus. After an awkward moment he stepped forward enough that he could offer Peter his hand and another smile. "I'm sure you figured it out, but I'm Steve. That one's so eager to get his face plastered in every tabloid in existence that just about everyone knows his face."

Tony's next 'hey' sounded a little offended, but Steve was pretty sure there was a hint of a smile on Peter's lips as he accepted Steve's hand to shake. "Recognized both of you, actually," he said in a voice that squeaked a little, like it was constantly threatening to break - Steve felt for him. "You usually go with him when he presents awards'n stuff. My teachers are always showin' stuff like that to try and get us to participate in that kinda stuff."

"Well if you come home with us, you'll have a pretty solid in with the people who organize that sort of thing," Tony said with a grin; Steve forced himself not to groan, especially when he saw Peter's threatening smile get a little bigger. "Nepotism for the win!" Instead of a handshake, Tony held out one fist for Peter to bump. The teen looked torn between laughing and groaning himself but he still obligingly participated in the fist bump before heading to a chair and plopping down.

Ignoring Kelly - she wasn't going to be leaving, but she wouldn't intervene unless needed - Steve sat opposite of Peter, giving him another smile. "He doesn't really mean that - Tony doesn't give out science or math prizes unless people _earn_ them. You'd probably have to work even harder to impress him."

Peter shrugged and looked down at his hands before peeking up from under his bangs, watching Tony come to sit next to Steve. "I mostly don't like to compete for stuff," he said with another shrug. "Except I'm on the decathlon team at school. Academic, not, like, the sports one," he hurried to clarify, voice breaking once before settling into its usual squeaky tones. "I don't really... sport well. I mean, I don't do sports. Not often, because with the sweating and the running and stuff I just don't think they're that fun. I like baseball?"

"Yeah?" Steve was smiling at all the babble, and he could feel Tony practically vibrating beside him in excitement - he loved a good rambling partner. Tony was of the opinion that if you had _two_ people babbling in a conversation, it would go to new and exciting places that normal people could never reach. "You like the Mets or the Yankees better?"

"The Mets," Peter said, an unsaid 'duh' behind the words.

"Why's that?"

"Because they're not the Yankees?"

"Good answer," Steve praised with a wide smile.

"I like the Yankees."

"Tony, no."

"No, really! They do the baseball thing so well, you know?" Steve could feel his expression changing to one of disbelief, scorn and irritation. That was what Tony wanted, so he did his best to keep himself from reacting, but it was so, so hard. "I even have some jerseys and a hat," he added gleefully to Peter, who looked horrified. "When we go to games where they play the Mets, I sit on Steve's side so he can weep into my shoulder when his team loses, but I still wear all my Yankees stuff. Sometimes I even paint my face!" Steve was pretty sure his expression matched Peter's perfectly, and Tony began to cackle. "Oh my God. Two of you! I can get you both at the same time!"

Steve shared a commiserating look with Peter, then wrapped one arm around Tony in a friendly, gentle version of a headlock. "Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. You don't even like baseball, ya mook. Least it's actually a sport, not like the crap you like. What's so great about car races? 'S just a bunch of guys who keep turning left." Tony squawked indignantly while Peter gaped; Steve shot him a wink that made him smile as Tony struggled free.

"You listen here, _Steven_. There is more to races than left turns! You are such a plebeian - no! You dream one day of being a pleb. You're a... what’s the word? Luddite maybe? Yeah, Luddite. You're one of those, with no appreciation for the skill and _art_ that is street racing. Do you have any idea what it takes to win those races? Do you?"

By the time Tony's rant wound down, the ice was broken. Conversation flowed easily and naturally, and Steve was impressed by what he saw. Peter was an intelligent, caring young man who had a sense of humor that matched Tony's wonderfully. Any time the conversation touched down anywhere near the subject of his parents or his previous placements, the teen turned sad and a little defensive - Steve did his best to steer them away from those pitfalls, wanting to keep things light and fun. It felt like hardly any time had passed at all before Kelly gently told them it was time to wrap things up and say goodbye.

As soon as that happened, Peter's expression turned mulish again, like he was expecting _just_ a goodbye, nothing more. "Peter?" Steve started, already missing the teen's smile. Tony's hand found his and squeezed; when Steve glanced his way, his husband was watching the teen with a yearning expression and he knew they were on the same page. "We'd really like it if we could move forward in this process with you. Do you think that'd be alright? If not, that's fine too," he added quickly, not wanting to pressure the poor kid. "You can take some time to think about it and let Kelly know if--"

"No! I mean yes. I mean," Peter looked flustered and pleased, blushing faintly as his eyes darted between Steve and Tony. "That'd be... it'd be great. Um. If you think you really want to. I know there are lots of kids who'd be smarter and--"

"Don't be dumb," Tony interrupted, and this time Steve couldn't help but groan. Then his husband got out of his chair and went to kneel in front of Peter; Steve wished he could see Tony's face. "You're a great kid, Peter Parker. I think you'd be a good fit with us, and Steve likes you too. So we're sure, we want you, and I think we can make this work. So are you in, kiddo?"

"... yeah." Peter said eventually, sounding shy and a little bit awed. Steve understood completely - Tony could have that effect on people. "I'm in."

Steve knew there was a lot more to it. There was a whole process, lots of paperwork, home visits and meetings with Peter in their future. Nothing was set in stone yet, and they might not end up making Peter a member of their family. But when he hugged the teen goodbye and watched his husband do the same, it felt like Peter was already theirs.

It felt like they were one step closer to building the future, the _family_ that they'd dreamed of.

~.~.~

Peter was a good kid - his kid, his son, and Tony loved him more than he would have thought possible just a few years ago. He hadn't wanted marriage or kids or anything like that until after meeting Steve, and even when he started wanting those things he couldn't have predicted how getting them would make him feel.

There were rough patches, sure, but for the most part things had been great. Amazing even. The addition of baby Sarah Marie to their little family had made things perfect, in his opinion. Peter seemed to love his baby sister, and they'd worked hard to try and make sure that their firstborn understood that they didn't love him any less. Tony had been sure that they'd done a good job at that, that Peter didn't feel like the baby was somehow more theirs or more important just because Steve had provided half of her DNA code.

Apparently they'd failed, and Tony didn't know _how_.

The teenager sitting in front of him, glaring with the force of a thousand suns with his arms crossed over his chest bore hardly any resemblance to the Peter he knew. There was so much anger in his eyes, hostility radiating from him, and Tony was kind of at a loss. Part of him wished Steve was there to deal with it - Steve was so much better at emotions - but his husband was out with Sarah and Peter was Tony's son too. He could handle this.

"Okay," he tried again, forcing himself to stay calm. "So you admit to skipping every day that your school told me about."

"Yeah."

"And you've been cutting classes pretty regularly even on days when you do show up."

"So? I know the material."

"That's not really the point, kiddo."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Okay, okay, not a kid," Tony agreed hastily, taken aback by the way Peter had shouted. "But not quite an adult either, which is why I really need you to tell me where you've been going when you're not in class."

"None of your business."

"Wrong. It is my business, and--"

"No it's not! It isn't your business, _Tony_ ," Peter said, brandishing the name like a weapon. It worked too - he was so used to being called 'dad' that he actually staggered back a step when Peter used 'Tony' instead. "And it isn't any of Steve's either! I've been skipping out for _months_ and you never noticed." There was an unspoken 'you were too busy with the baby' hanging in the air between them, and Tony didn't know how he could make this better. "So why the fuck do you care now?"

"Watch your words, young man." Tony answered, brain working a mile a minute. He ignored Peter's sneer at the reprimand, busy trying to decide how to _fix this_ and coming up with nothing. "Peter," he started as he knelt in front of his son, looking up and searching the teen's expression for any sign of the Peter that he knew. "I'm sorry. I didn't see that you were struggling or that you felt... I don't know, replaced or neglected or... I don't know. What I do know is that I didn't do my job as your dad. I'm sorry for that kid - Peter. I'm sorry and I'm going to do better from now on, okay?"

"Why bother?" Peter demanded, voice aggressive and expression not softening even a little. "You have Sarah now. What do you need me for?" He wavered a little then, looking vulnerable and sad, and in that moment Tony hated himself a tiny bit. Peter shouldn't feel that way - he and Steve had clearly failed their son.

"Hey." Tony tried to catch his kid's eye, but it didn't work. Peter was looking everywhere but at him now, looking sad and hurt more than angry. "That's not how family works. Not in real families anyway. You are such a great kid, Peter. Don't make that noise, it's true. You're amazing, and your pops and I are so thankful that we get to have you in our lives. We didn't have Sarah to replace you or because we didn't love you or because you were lacking in any way. We got so lucky with you, Peter Parker, and we wanted to share that with another kid."

"Yeah, but... she's really Steve's. Not like me. I'm not..." Tony watched a tear roll down Peter's cheek and felt like the worst dad ever. It made him want to break something - he would move mountains to make Peter happy, and he'd _failed_. "I'm not really--"

"You listen here, Peter. Sarah is Steve's, yes, but she's also mine. She's also yours - she's your baby sister the same way that you're Steve's son. The same way that you're _mine_. Blood doesn't mean anything, Peter, not really. How often do you see grandma and your grandfather, huh? They're my 'real' parents, whatever that means, but that didn't make us family. They were never my mom and dad, not really. Besides me and your pops, who comes to all your science fairs, huh? Who goes to watch you compete in the decathlons and comes to every event that you have?"

"Nonna and nonno," Peter answered, a second tear following the first. “I know nonno used to be grandfather’s butler, but he still… And uncle Bucky and aunt Pep. Uncle Rhodey if he's in the country. Sometimes... sometimes some of my other aunts and uncles."

"Guess how many of them are related to me or your pops by blood?"

"None."

"Exactly. Maybe sharing DNA means something to some people, but for me and Steve... look. We've always found family in other ways. We _chose_ our family, Peter. We chose you. You are our son, and nothing can change that. Not ever."

Peter searched his eyes and Tony let him, doing his best to be open and honest so Peter could see just what he meant. The kid was his son in every way that really mattered, and he hated himself for making Peter question that. He'd never wanted Peter to feel like he had growing up, always wondering if he was good enough to be loved. Tony thought he'd been doing better than Howard had; apparently he needed to work harder.

After a long, silent minute, Peter wiped the back of his right hand over his face, scrubbing away the evidence of his tears. Once that was done, he held that pinky out to Tony, looking scared and hopeful at the same time. Without missing a beat, Tony hooked his own pinky around it, keeping his gaze locked with Peter's as he spoke. "You are my son, and I love you. There is no replacing you or getting rid of you because some new, shiny kid came along. You've got me and your pops for forever. I promise, Peter - you're our kid and nothing will ever change that."

Peter was maybe crying again when he launched himself at Tony; Tony was maybe crying a little too as he hugged his son tight. There was still a lot that they needed to talk about - where Peter was going when he wasn't at school was the least of it. Once Steve got home, Tony would take Sarah for a bit so Steve could have some one-on-one time with Peter; later, after dinner, they could have a family discussion. 

They'd figure out how to do better by Peter, where their son was spending his time and how to help him deal with the anger that he carried that Tony hadn't noticed before. Maybe Pepper and Bucky could take Sarah for a day so he and Steve could hang with just Peter, the way it had been before a newborn had demanded such a big chunk of everyone's attention. They'd talk, they'd figure out what was going on with their son, and they'd fix it.

But for that moment, none of that really mattered. What was important was hugging Peter back just as tightly as his son was hugging him. What mattered was letting Peter cry it out while whispering how much he was wanted, how much he was loved. All that Tony cared about just then was showing Peter how important he was. Everything else could wait.

~.~.~

It was fucking freezing, and his husband was an idiot.

Steve glared at the thermostat that was only set at _sixty-eight_ for a full twenty seconds or so until he started to shiver again. Pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, he cranked it up to seventy-five, which was goddamned comfortable and Tony could go suck an egg if he didn't think so. 

Grumbling to himself, he ambled back to the living room, only slightly mollified by the way the heater had audibly kicked on. Tony _knew_ how cold he got, and the ass also knew that they were out of hot cocoa mix - Sarah was supposed to bring some later when she stopped in for dinner with her boyfriend. Harley seemed like a pretty nice young man, even if no one would ever really be good enough for his baby girl. At least he wasn't anything like Wade Wilson, who'd been on-again, off-again with Peter since his son was seventeen.

But he'd been thinking about hot chocolate, not the state of his grown childrens’ love lives. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Steve settled into Tony's armchair. It had fluffier cushions and always felt warmer than Steve's chair once he'd settled - his own chair was better in every other way, of course. He only stole Tony's when his jerk of a husband put the thermostat so low that the air in the house turned frigid.

He'd only been sitting for a little while, debating on whether he wanted to watch TV or read, when Crepes Meow (usually called Crepes or 'pancake kitty') hopped up into his lap. A little friendlier than Sinnabun had been - God, he still missed her so much some days - he purred loudly as he kneaded Steve's thigh. It was hard not to smile at the adorable little thing, and Steve let his thoughts drift as he lavished attention on his cat.

Thinking about Sinnabun, gone almost five years, made him think about Chewbarka. The loyal dog had passed on to greener pastures just a year ago, and Tony wasn't anywhere close to being ready to think about getting another. Since they weren't exactly spring chickens themselves, Steve thought that even if they did decide to adopt a new canine child they should pick one a little longer in the tooth. He sure as hell didn't have the energy to handle a puppy anymore, not full time anyway. And maybe he wasn't old - 'if you're old, _Steven_ , then I'm getting close and just no' - but he was starting to feel his age.

His hair was more white than blond, which upset Tony... mostly because his own salt and pepper hair was far more noticeably graying. There was an ache in his lower back and his knees that was a frequent visitor, and sometimes getting up was more trouble than it was worth. Sure once he got going he felt as fit and healthy as ever, but that 'getting going' part was a lot harder than it used to be. Tony teased him about it, and Steve graciously didn't point out his husband's carpal tunnel braces or his (pretty damned sexy) glasses. Both of them were starting to show a few signs of wear and tear, and Steve loved it.

He loved every wrinkle on Tony's face, every gray hair, every bit of him that was maybe sagging a little bit more than when they'd met in their twenties. Steve loved cataloging each difference, each change, with his hands and mouth when they were in bed together - their sex life was one thing that was still going strong despite their advanced years. Peter and Sarah were always mortified whenever the subject came up, which was probably why Bucky, Darcy and Clint loved to talk about it whenever they were around the kids. 

Steve didn't mind - he was still very much attracted to and in love with his husband. That was nothing to be ashamed of.

Crepes gave a quiet chirrup, interrupting Steve's thoughts. Knowing exactly what the cat wanted, he gave him a few scratches under his chin. As he did, the comforting sound of warm air moving through the heating vents came to an abrupt stop. Steve couldn't help it - he growled, already starting to shiver again. There was no way the house was seventy-five degrees yet, which meant only one thing: Tony, the wonderful bastard, had meddled. 

Maybe sensing his shift in mood, Crepes huffed and hopped down, tail in the air as he strutted out of the room. Probably to beg attention from Tony instead, the traitor. Grumbling again, he got out of the chair and moved to grab a second blanket off the back of the couch, setting it on Tony's chair for when he came back. Pretending not to have noticed the interference, Steve went to the kitchen and started water for tea - it wasn't hot chocolate, but it might drive the ice out from under his skin. By the time he had a tea bag steeping, he was sure Tony would be back in his workshop, tinkering.

Only then did he go back to the thermostat, cranking it up to seventy-eight this time - partly out of a need to be petty, partly because Tony had lowered it to sixty-three. Before heading back to the couch, he stopped by his studio to grab a Post It note (blue, because they were prettier than the yellow ones) and a pen. 'Do Not Touch - that means YOU Tony' he wrote on it, sticking it on top of the thermostat. He'd meant to end it there, but despite his best intentions he went to grab another (green this time) and wrote 'Your husband is fucking freezing' and situated it underneath the first.

Steve made a nest out of the blankets and sipped his steaming tea, but he was still convinced that he was turning into an icicle. Most of his attention was on the sounds around him. Sure enough, the heat kicked off too soon again, and he could hear his husband laughing too. This was a game as much as it was a fight, and Steve was briefly warmed by the thought that he'd amused Tony. That bit of heat didn't last long though, and soon enough he was headed back for the thermostat. 'Leave Me Alone Steven', Tony had written in return on one Post It, with 'Your husband is sweating like a pig' underneath.

For almost the next hour, they waged a mostly silent war over how hot to keep their house. Sometimes they left each other little notes and sometimes they didn't. Towards the end, Steve was back to the thermostat so fast that on occasion he'd catch a fleeting glimpse of Tony rounding the opposite corner. The heat was cranked to ninety on the high end and forty at the lowest; their poor house was probably having a crisis. It didn't end until Steve put the heat at seventy, writing 'If you loved me you'd come keep me warm' on a pink Post It for Tony to find.

Less than five minutes later they were on the couch together, wrapped up in one of Steve's blankets and each other. Tony was in Steve's lap, head tucked under Steve's chin as they bickered about what to watch. There was a game on that Steve kind of wanted to catch, but Tony knew his team wasn't actually playing. Tony wanted to watch a movie but didn't know which one, which Steve was pretty sure meant he forfeited the right to choose anything at all. 

Eventually they settled on a documentary about whales - it was going to put both of them to sleep, but that was okay. If they were still napping when Sarah and Harley showed up, the kids would only tease them a little and then they could order out instead of Steve cooking something.

Maybe it wasn't the most exciting day he'd ever had, but Steve couldn't imagine a better way to spend the day. He and Tony were old enough that they'd earned the right to lazy days spent 'arguing' about the same things they'd been bickering over for thirty years. They'd made it so far together that they deserved the occasional nap on the couch that kept them from being productive. 

They'd loved each other so long that Steve couldn't remember what his life had been like before Tony. He couldn't believe it had all started in a grocery store, or that he'd only met Tony because he'd panicked at the prospect of shopping like an adult and had gone to hide in the produce section.

"Love you," Tony murmured out of nowhere, looking up from where he'd been playing with Steve's wedding band and his fingers. 

"Love you too," Steve said before pressing a kiss to Tony's hairline, which his husband refused to admit was receding just a little. "And hey - thanks for giving me the chance to show you how dating could be."

Tony shot him a dazzling smile that was no less spellbinding than the one he'd given Steve on their very first date, when he'd shown up outside Tony's door early enough to earn a second date. He'd been so eager to get to know Tony, so excited to show him all the ways that dating could be fun without sex as the be-all end-all of the evening.

And yeah, maybe he hadn't _really_ known that Tony was going to be it for him. Maybe he hadn't known that they would fall in love and end up married with two great kids, because no one ever really knew. But there'd been _something_ that day in the grocery store. Steve had known that meeting Tony was going to be an important part of his life, and that it would be something he never forgot. He was so, so thankful that he'd been proven right.

Before he started to doze off, he felt Tony's pinky finger wrap around his own. It was a promise and a reminder, and it made him smile as he slipped off into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) if you wanna come say hi. <3


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